


The New World

by lindirs_gaze



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Fem!Gloin, Fluff, Found Family, Multi, or uncle-ing, surprise parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 98,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindirs_gaze/pseuds/lindirs_gaze
Summary: The world has ended; the dead roam the streets. Bilbo Baggins has been surviving on his own, content to stay alone if it means staying alive, but this all changes when he crosses paths with two young boys desperate to make it back to their family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 

The road was completely empty.

Sure, there was the occasional vacant car or flock of scattered litter or even a few gruesome red-turned brown stains on the dry pavement. But Bilbo had noticed, as the weeks went on, that he saw less and less signs of people every time he drove down this stretch of highway.

The food had been running out, too. At first, he’d been able to get by scavenging from grocery stores, then from school cafeterias, and finally from abandoned houses. But his efforts, and the efforts of other survivors, had eventually drained the resources from the buildings surrounding the apartment complex where he’d been living since it had all started. As the food had dwindled, so had the people.

These trips down the highway to adjacent towns had become something of a weekly routine. Bilbo glanced over at the wire shopping basket in the passenger seat and frowned. Three hours of searching, and he’d only managed to find a couple boxes of pasta, a few canned soups and beans, and one packet of chips.

He’d mapped out the nearby towns in an increasing radius from his home—though it was really more of a semicircle, as he tried his best to avoid the city. That had been one of the most important messages the radios had been able to get out before they stopped broadcasting entirely— _ stay away from the city _ . 

So he’d keep hitting suburb after suburb, ten, twenty, thirty miles away, until those ran dry too. And once he couldn’t find any more gas…

Bilbo shook his head. He should have left weeks ago, tried to find a safer place—perhaps one of the quarantine zones the military had supposedly set up in some of the northern cities. But the thought of leaving his home, the place where he had grown up, was something he just couldn’t consider just yet.

As usual, the lot was mostly empty when he arrived. He parked his car and grabbed his basket of supplies. Though the building was almost entirely empty, he took care not to let the cans rattle too much as he took the four flights of stairs up to his apartment.

The first sign that something was wrong was the noise coming from the door on the left. Mrs. Greenfield had turned during the first week of the outbreak, and had spent the next scratching on the door and growling. It was part of the reason Bilbo preferred to move so quietly.

But she had calmed down after that, and only really got agitated when there was a storm or some other loud noise. If she was scratching at the door now, that meant someone had passed her recently—that someone was here.

Bilbo scanned the hallway, which was lit only by a window at the other end. He began moving towards his apartment, avoiding the creaky floorboards as he went. His door, 417, was at the end of the corridor.

As he got closer, he realized with horror that it was open.

He reached into his jacket pocket, fingers closing around the grip of his handgun. He’d pilfered it from the remains of a shootout a while back, and while he had absolutely no idea how to use it, he’d figured it would come in handy if he ever had to persuade anyone not to shoot him first.

Holding the gun with both hands, Bilbo crept towards the door and pushed it open with the barrel, like he’d seen actors do on TV.

The living room looked untouched for the most part. His books were stacked neatly on the shelf, family photos still arranged on top. A map of the county was still spread on the coffee table, his empty mug of tea next to it. He went to pick it up to bring it to the kitchen to be washed, then remembered he was supposed to be looking for intruders.

The sound of crinkling plastic sounded from the kitchen, making him tense up. Bilbo raised the gun again and continued into the next room.

The pantry door was open, and a growing pile of empty wrappers sat next to it. Two figures were sitting on the floor, partially hidden behind the open door. Bilbo edged into the room and realized the two were children—a split second before they noticed him. One of them raised his hand, something flashing orange in his grip, and Bilbo cried out as something hit him in the eye.

“Kíli, come  _ on _ !”

Momentarily stunned, Bilbo could do nothing as the two pushed him and ran from the room. With one hand cupped over his eye, he looked down and saw a bullet on the ground—of the foam variety, or else he’d be half-blind and dying on his kitchen floor.

He glanced at the gun dangling uselessly in his hand, then decided it would be of very little use in this situation. He left it on the kitchen counter and dashed back out the door.

The two children were already nearing the other end of the hallway. The taller of the two, with blond hair, was wearing a blue sweater with  _ Ered Luin Junior High _ emblazoned on the back.

They reached the end of the hallway, and Bilbo immediately recognized with a wave of dread what was about to happen. The stairwell door, which looked quite a bit like the rest of the doors in the hall, was not at the very end of the hallway, but the one to the left. The boys, apparently having forgotten this, were heading for the wrong door.

The boy with the blue sweater opened the door to Mrs Greenfield’s apartment, and she fell on him with a snarl.

“No!” Bilbo was sprinting for them before he even knew what he was doing. He cursed himself for leaving his gun back in the kitchen, but there was no time to go back.

Mrs Greenfield had turned frail from lack of food in the weeks after her death, her pale skin sagging from her cheeks. Both she and the boy toppled to the ground, and her stringy hair moved aside to reveal the bite mark on the back of her shoulder, and the brown bloodstain on her cashmere sweater.

She snarled and scratched at the boy with ragged nails, teeth clacking as her head jerked downwards. He let out a cry of terror and shoved at her shoulders, though this was only enough to push her up a bit.

The other boy, who had backed against the wall at first, now darted forward and slapped ineffectually at Mrs Greenfield’s head, fear making his movements clumsy. “Fíli!” he shouted, sounding tearful.

Bilbo finally managed to reach them. He grabbed Mrs Greenfield by the back of her sweater and heaved her off the boy, sending her with a strength he didn’t know he possessed back into her apartment. She gave another snarl and lunged again, but he managed to slam the door shut just in time.

With her growls and scratches muffled by the wood, he leaned against the wall and let out a breath in an unsteady whoosh. His legs were shaking so badly he could barely stand. The boy who had been attacked, the one named Fíli, was trembling just as badly. The other one sat down next to him and began to cry.

Half a minute ticked by, and Bilbo realized that someone had to take control of the situation. He knelt down next to Fíli and looked him over. “Are you all right? Did she bite you? Scratch you?”

He shook his head, wide eyes locked in a rather blank stare.

“Come now, it’s all right.” He touched his shoulder, ready to help him sit up.

At this, Fíli jumped into action, fingers locking around the orange dart gun in his hand and delivering another foam bullet to Bilbo’s chest.

“Um.” He looked down as the projectile bounced off his shirt. “You know those don’t actually do anything, right?”

“Gave us time to get away,” the other boy, Kíli, said, wiping tears from his cheeks.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. “Nonetheless, that was very dangerous, what you did. I could have shot you when I came in.”

Fíli glared at him and stood up, placing himself in between Bilbo and Kíli. He aimed his dart gun again and looked around, as though trying to place which door would lead to the stairs and which one had more dead ones behind it.

“N-Not that I would have.” Bilbo stood as well and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you. You two just surprised me, is all.”

The dart gun lowered an inch or two.

“What were you doing in my apartment, anyway?” he asked, though the answer had already crept into his mind. Both boys were incredibly skinny, their clothes hanging off them more than they should. He thought back to the pile of wrappers on his kitchen floor. “Were you just looking for some food?”

Fíli kept glaring and said nothing. For his part, Kíli seemed content to peer at Bilbo from behind the other’s shoulder. The rumbling growl that issued from his stomach, however, was answer enough.

“Look here.” Bilbo glanced back down the hallway at his abandoned basket of food. “I’ve just come back from scavenging some food. I have more than enough to share, and if you would like, I’ll make some soup for you two.” He tried for a smile. “Think of it as an apology for my neighbor, um, attacking you.”

Behind the door, Mrs Greenfield growled.

Fíli still looked as if he wanted to riddle him with foam darts. But he glanced back at Kíli, then nodded and lowered his weapon.

“Right, then. Feel free to follow me.” Bilbo set off back down the hallway, pausing to collect his basket of things. The boys followed him at a distance, but they made it all the way back into the kitchen.

Bilbo set his things down on the counter, and after a moment’s consideration, took the gun and put it on top of the fridge. He did not want to see what trigger-happy Fíli would do if he got his hands on it.

The boys came and sat at the kitchen table, and watched in silence as he took out a couple of soup cans, poured them into a pot, and lit the stove.

As he was waiting for the soup to heat up, he glanced at the wrappers on the floor. The kids had managed to finish off an entire family-size bag of chips, two sleeves of Oreos, and had picked out most of the M&Ms out of his trail mix.

“You two must have been hungry, hm?” Bilbo glanced at them. “How long have you been on your own?”

Fíli kept frowning at him. After a moment, Kíli said, “We’re not supposed to talk to strangers.” The elder turned, looking as if he wanted to protest even that answer, then seemed to decide it was acceptable and said nothing.

“I could tell you a bit about myself.” Bilbo leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Then I wouldn’t be a stranger anymore.”

They shrugged in unison, which he decided to take as an affirmative.

“My name is Bilbo Baggins. This is my apartment, and I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve been living here by myself since the outbreak. I thought I could stay here and, I dunno, weather the storm.” He cleared his throat, realizing he’d strayed into a rather dark topic. “I like to read. I, um, was actually writing my own book before...all this, though I doubt I’ll ever finish it now.”

The manuscript was in the desktop computer in his office, but he hadn’t been able to access it since the power had gone out.

“We were on the bus,” Fíli said, then clamped his lips shut as if he hadn’t meant to speak.

“The school bus?” Bilbo prompted, glancing at his blue sweater. To his knowledge, Ered Luin was a few miles west, a bit closer to the city. “What grade are you in, then?” He hoped a more mundane question might help him relax a bit.

“Seventh grade. Kíli’s in second grade.”

Bilbo turned to stir the soup to hide his grimace. They were both far too young to be on their own, especially when the world was filled with roaming corpses and god knows what else.

“We were on the bus,” Fíli repeated. “And all these cars started coming, so we had to wait in traffic for a really long time. And then everyone got out and started running, so we started running too.”

He could picture the scenario all too well. The highways leading out of the city had clogged up as soon as the outbreak happened. Soon after, the tide of dead had followed and driven everyone away, leaving hundreds of empty metal husks on the road. The image, described in detail on the radios before they went out, had kept him up at night.

“We went back home, but nobody was there.” Fíli’s chin trembled. “So we were looking, and we got hungry, and—”

“You ended up in my pantry,” Bilbo said with a slight smile, to show him that he wasn’t angry. “Why did you choose my apartment, anyway?”

“We saw your plants,” Kíli said. “But I don’t like tomatoes.”

“The ones on the fire escape?” He’d planted a mini-garden outside his window a few years back, with some cherry tomatoes and basil that he sometimes used for cooking. It wasn’t enough to sustain him, unfortunately, but it was more of a hobby that anything.

“We thought you might have snacks inside,” Kíli said, averting his eyes.

“You climbed up the outside, then.” That explained why they hadn’t known where the stairs were. “Well, you’re both growing boys, and you can’t just be living on chips and cookies.” He took out a couple of bowls and spooned out some soup, making sure to save a little for himself.

The next few minutes passed in complete silence, save for the slurping noises as the boys practically inhaled their food. Bilbo bent down to scoop up the mess of wrappers on the floor, and glanced into his pantry with a frown. His usual amount of scavenged food wouldn’t do, not if he was going to be cooking for three now—

_ Where on earth did that come from?  _ He didn’t know anything about these boys, or whether taking them in would even be feasible. But he cut off his doubts before they could take root. There was absolutely no way he could turn two children away from his door to face starvation or, even worse, another attack from one of the dead.

That settled it, then.

Bilbo stood and turned to face his guests. Their bowls were already empty, and Kíli had his bowl up to his face and was unabashedly licking the bottom, though he froze when he realized Bilbo was looking. Fíli muttered something under his breath and pushed the bowl back onto the table.

A little bloom of fondness appeared in his chest at the sight. The boys clearly had manners, foam darts notwithstanding.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” he said. “You would have food, and you would be safe, as long as you don’t open the door at the end of the hall.”

Kíli looked at his brother, who shifted in his seat. Bilbo suppressed another grimace. Fíli was far too young to be having to make these kinds of decisions, and to be the sole caretaker of someone even younger. He wanted nothing more than to take that burden from his shoulders, but that would require trust on the boy’s part.

“We were going to our uncle’s house,” Fíli said, shifting again as though he were about to stand. “Maybe our parents went there.”

“Well, that’s certainly another option as well.” Bilbo nodded. Rather silly of him, to think of taking them in when there was the possibility their parents were still out there. “And where is your uncle’s house?”

“In the city,” Kíli replied. “One of the ‘partments.”

“The city?” Bilbo schooled his face into a more neutral expression. The city streets were crawling with the dead. If their parents had ended up there, they were likely dead or trapped. “We...We’ll have to see about that.”

Fíli’s brows drew together. “We’re going to our uncle’s house.”

He opened his mouth, several arguments and warnings running through his head, but stopped himself once more. He’d known Fíli for less than an hour, but it was clear he was a scrappy young boy who was prepared to do just about anything to get himself and his brother back to their family. Any warnings he would give might just result in the two of them climbing back down the fire escape in the middle of the night.

“If that’s the case,” Bilbo finally said, choosing his words carefully, “then we’d best take my car. We’ll be able to get there faster, and it will be much safer. How does that sound?”

Kíli brightened at that, and Fíli relaxed a little.

Bilbo glanced out the window. Orange light was spilling onto the dining room table. It would be no good going into the city now—the only thing that terrified him more than running into a dead person was running into one at night.

And there was a good deal besides that to think about.

“We’ll talk about it more tomorrow,” he said. “I think you both deserve a good night’s rest.” He leaned over to take their empty bowls, then realized he had made nothing for himself. “I think I might make myself some pasta. Would you like some as well?”

They nodded, and Bilbo smiled slightly as he turned to heat up some water. It was nice to be cooking for others again. Obviously none of his friends and family had come to visit since the world had ended, and even before, visits had been few and far between.

Since the phones had gone down, and the frantic calls had stopped, Bilbo couldn’t really remember the last time he had talked to anyone.

Not that it would have been much better had he ventured to find companionship. The dead weren’t the only ones killing people. The bodies left with bullet holes instead of bite marks had told him as much on the occasion that he found one during one of his supply runs.

He glanced at Fíli and Kíli. That two boys could have been alone in that mess was unthinkable. “I hope you haven’t had any trouble, out there on your own.”

The crackle of the pasta package being opened broke through the silence like a firecracker, and Bilbo wondered if he should have said anything at all.

“We had trouble.” Fíli poked his dart gun, sounding as if that should have been obvious.

“I-I meant with anyone who might have wanted to hurt you.” He bit the inside of his lip. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Nobody ever hurt us,” he said, his gaze falling to the table. Kíli, too, had gained a distant look in his eyes. Even if that was true, Bilbo supposed it was too much to ask for that they hadn’t  _ seen _ something they didn’t want to talk about.

“Well, that is good to hear. I would feel terrible if something had happened.” He went to stir the pasta into the boiling water, then glanced back at them. “And I will do whatever I can to help you find your family.”

He meant it, but the magnitude of what he had said didn’t hit him until later. They ate in silence, and Bilbo offered them the big bed in his room (though he insisted that they wash up first).

After they’d settled down, he made himself comfortable on the couch. As the house fell silent, and he had only the ceiling to stare at, his thoughts came flooding in once more.

He’d made a commitment to those two boys, not just with food and shelter, but with the promise to go out with them in search of more than just canned goods at the back of a grocery store.

Bilbo didn’t know if they’d ever find the boys’ parents or uncle. But the events of the day had made it clear that it wasn’t possible to simply sit in his home and wait this out.

He turned his head and stared at the moonlight redness of the tomato plant outside his window.

It was a long while before he eventually found sleep.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 

When Bilbo woke the next morning, Fíli and Kíli were already sitting in the kitchen, looking rather restless. They glanced up as he entered, and stared at him silently.

“Would you two like some breakfast?” he asked, stretching as he walked over to the pantry. He already guessed the answer to that question, given the way Fíli’s eyes kept darting over to the cabinets. It seemed they’d decided to wait for his permission this time before partaking in any of his food. “How does oatmeal sound?”

“I don’t like oatmeal,” Kíli said, and Fíli shushed him.

“That’s quite alright,” Bilbo started digging around in his pantry. “I have some granola bars in here. And…” Not much else that would count as breakfast food, actually. “Hmm.”

Fíli whispered something to his brother, who then said, “Can I have a granola bar, please?”

“Of course.” He gave a couple to Kíli. “And what about you, Fíli?”

He folded his arms on the table, looking slightly more relaxed. “I’ll have some oatmeal.”

Bilbo set to work boiling some water, and took out the container. After a moment’s consideration, he retrieved the brown sugar as well. He only had a little left, but there was only so much good that would come from hoarding what food he had. At this rate, he would likely have to go on much longer runs to get enough food to support three people.

“Are we going to go find my uncle today?” Kíli asked, already unwrapping the second granola bar.

Right. That. Bilbo took a deep breath. He couldn’t put this conversation off for much longer. “Well, if we’re going into the city, then we’re going to need a plan. Where does your uncle live, exactly?”

“In the city,” Kíli repeated, as though that should have been enough to go on.

He turned around to look at them, but Fíli just shrugged.

“We’re going to have to figure out something more specific than that if I’m going to take you two there.” He added some oatmeal to the pot. “We’ll look at the map of the city together and see if we can’t find his apartment on there.”

And after breakfast, that was just what they did. Bilbo was a bit of a maps enthusiast, and though most of his collection was of faraway places or kingdoms back in the Second Age, he did have one of the city. There were already a few circles and notes there, marking down the locations of his favorite restaurants or food trucks.

“Alright, then.” He spread the map out on the coffee table. “Do you think you could show me where your uncle lives?”

Fíli frowned down at the map, while Kíli appeared to be distracted by something outside the window.

“Do you have an address, perhaps?” Bilbo frowned. It was possible the boys had no idea at all how to find the place on this map, especially now that people were more inclined to use GPS. “Does any of this look familiar to you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Fíli said, his voice wavering a little.

A part of him reasoned that perhaps that was a good thing. If they couldn’t find  _ where _ to go in the city, then Bilbo could possibly persuade them not to go at all. He would have to tell them eventually that almost everyone in the city had either fled or was now dead or...worse.

But then he looked up and saw Fíli’s chin wobble, and decided anything short of trying would be letting the boys down. “Do you remember anything close by? A big building, or a park? Somewhere you went to eat?”

“We went to a park,” Kíli said.

Bilbo scanned the map, noting the half-dozen parks within the city. Fíli caught on and knelt down, leaning his elbows on the coffee table as he began searching as well. “And what did you do while you were there?”

“We went on the swings, and we got ice cream.” Kíli tilted his head. “And we saw some ducks.”

“That one.” Fíli jabbed his finger at a small green rectangle with a blue blob representing a lake.

“Very good,” Bilbo said, though he noticed with some chagrin that the park was near the center of the city. “And how far away was your uncle’s apartment from there?”

The brothers exchanged a rather blank look.

“Uh, how many times did you have to cross the street?”

“Two or three?” Fíli shrugged.

That would have to be good enough for now. Bilbo took a pen and drew a circle in a three-block radius around the park. “Anything else you can give me?”

Fíli continued studying the map, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Silver Street. I think it’s on Silver Street.”

Bilbo found it on the map and traced the section within the circle he’d drawn. He sat back and said, “Well, I think that’s as close as we can get until we actually drive down there.” They would have to go around the south edge of the city, then back up and through the east end to get to the apartment. It would take a bit longer, but hopefully would allow them to spend the least amount of time inside.

“Can we go now?” Kíli asked.

It was the middle of the day, the weather was clear, and Bilbo could think of no reason why not except for the possible threat of them being eaten alive. But that didn’t seem as though it was going to resolve itself any time soon.

“All right.” He stood up. “You both have everything you need?”

Kíli nodded, and Fíli ran to the kitchen to collect his dart gun. They didn’t have backpacks or anything, Bilbo remembered. They’d truly come into his apartment with nothing, and he dreaded to think what might have happened if he hadn’t taken them in.

He went to collect his jacket from where he’d left it on one of the kitchen chairs. Fíli was dutifully loading his dart gun, which had a revolver-like cylinder to store six foam bullets. Bilbo remembered his own gun and retrieved it from the top of the fridge.

Kíli was waiting for them at the door, excitement shining on his face. Fíli seemed to carry a similar feeling as they set off down the hallway, though his bordered more on anxiety.

“Stairs are on the left,” Bilbo reminded them as they neared the end of the hallway. At the sound of their footsteps, Mrs Greenfield began her scratching and growling on the other side of the door. Fíli flinched away, but Bilbo put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. She can’t hurt you.”

The tension eased somewhat as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the sunlight. It really was a beautiful day, warm but not too hot. Bilbo wondered how the sky could look that blue after the world had ended.

When they reached the car, the brothers both climbed into the back seat. Bilbo turned the key in the ignition and checked the gas—half a tank would be enough to get them to the apartment and back.

He glanced in the rearview mirror at the boys. Kíli looked rather small in the seat, and he wondered for a moment if he should have gotten a phonebook or something for him to sit on.

“Now,” he said as he began pulling out of the parking lot, “the city is said to be quite dangerous. Apparently there are quite a few dead ones roaming about, so the both of you must be absolutely careful. Keep the car doors locked until I say otherwise. In fact, you must do exactly as I say. Understood?”

They both nodded. The boys really were rather well-behaved, and he wasn’t sure whether to attribute it to fear of the recent apocalypse or good parenting from whoever had raised them.

Thinking about their parents brought an uncomfortable ache to his chest, however, and he tried his best to keep his focus on the road.

The drive to the city was easy enough. It was rather eerie, actually, how one side of the highway was entirely empty while the lanes leading away from the city were packed with vacant cars.

Up ahead, two dark figures stood out against the sun-bleached pavement, and Bilbo tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he recognized the shuffling gait. They lurched towards the car as it drove past, and soon they were nothing more than dark specks in the rearview mirror.

Kíli was craning his neck to try and get a look at them through the back window. “Why are they like that?”

“It’s some sort of disease, I believe,” Bilbo said. “They are sick, and I-I don’t think they can be cured. You know not to let them bite you, yes?”

Fíli nodded, his expression darkening, and Kíli asked, “What happens if they bite you?”

“Then you will get sick as well, and turn into one of them.” He didn’t know if this was the appropriate sort of thing to be telling a child, especially one as young as Kíli, but there was no point in hiding the truth from them. “Those things might look human, but they are very dangerous, all right?”

Behind him, he heard the  _ pop _ of one of Fíli’s darts being fired against the back of the seat.

As they approached the city proper, the buildings around them grew taller, and Bilbo couldn’t help but think of a row of teeth in the jaw of some giant beast.

The streets here were empty, too, save the occasional parked car and a mess of scattered, faded newspapers. Bilbo resisted the urge to slow down—his old car engine wouldn’t do much in the way of stealth, and their best option was to get in and out as fast as possible.

“This look familiar to you?” he asked as the silence in the car became oppressive.

“Um…” Both boys sat up to peer out the windows.

Bilbo checked the map spread out in the passenger seat. They weren’t far from the stretch of road where the apartment was supposed to be, and things had been quiet so far. Perhaps the city had emptied of the dead, and they’d all gone elsewhere in search of food, just like the living.

“Look!” Kíli shouted, making him jump. “Something moved!”

He glanced the way he was pointing. There was a dead one lurching around in one of the side streets.

“It’s all right,” he said, speeding the car up again. “Stay away from the windows, now.”

As they continued, the remains of what must have been chaos came into view. There were broken pieces of barricades scattered about, and a couple cars caved in and charred black from explosives. Bilbo caught a glimpse of a broken helicopter blade down one of the side streets.

“ _ Help _ !”

A ragged cry nearly made him slam on the brakes. Fíli and Kíli moved up, sticking their heads into the gap between the seats to get a better look at the figure limping down the street.

The man looked as if he could barely stand. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, and his clothing was so dirty and ragged he could have passed for one of the dead. But the dead didn’t speak.

Holding his breath, Bilbo inched the car forward. A dark red stain marked the man’s shoulder, which could mean any number of things. He reached over to lock the car doors.

“Help me, please…” The man staggered and braced one hand against the brick wall of a corner store.

“Are you gonna help him?” Fíli asked, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

Something moved behind the man. Before he could react, a pair of rotting hands clamped down on his shoulders.

Bilbo cried out in warning, but there was nothing anyone could do as the corpse sunk its teeth into the back of the man’s neck. He let out a hoarse scream and tried to pull away, only to collapse on the sidewalk. The corpse fell on top of him.

“Oh my god.” Bilbo felt a chill pass through him, his knuckles going white against the steering wheel. Behind him, Kíli let out a whimper. That was enough to spur him back into action, and he pressed down on the accelerator.

The man’s agonized cries echoed through the street. The monster’s head jerked as it tore away a piece of flesh from his back.

“Don’t look, don’t look, all right? Don’t look at it.” Bilbo sped up as they passed the pair, speaking to himself as much as the boys in the backseat.

Breathing hard, he turned onto the next street. They were nearly there. He glanced at the rearview mirror. Fíli was sitting back against the seat again, holding Kíli against him with one arm. The younger boy’s eyes were wide, his expression more horrified than Bilbo ever wanted to see. He considered asking if they were alright, but there was no real point in asking such a thing.

Instead, he made another turn and said, “We’re getting close, now. Do you think you could help me look for the apartment?”

Fíli scooted closer to the side window, pulling his brother with him. “I don’t see it.”

“Does any of this look familiar to you?” Bilbo checked the map. They were only a couple blocks away from Silver Street. His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his temples. The growling of the dead still echoed in his ears.

He was halfway through the intersection when Fíli let out a cry. Bilbo turned his head so fast his neck hurt, and his stomach dropped at what he saw.

More than a hundred dead were crowding the street to the left. They had already seen the car—perhaps heard the engine even before they came into sight—and more of them were stumbling in their direction.

Bilbo swore and sped them the rest of the way across the intersection. There were a half dozen dead at the end of the street, but he only pressed harder on the pedal. The car slammed into two of them, throwing their heavy bodies against the windshield. Kíli let out a small scream at the noise.

He grit his teeth as they slid off the car, thankful the glass hadn’t broken. They reached Silver Street, but another crowd of the dead was waiting for them on the left. One of them lurched forward and threw itself against the driver’s door with a growl. Bilbo jumped away with a shout, but it only pawed ineffectually against the glass, its grimy hands leaving long, red-tinged fingerprints.

More of them swarmed behind the car, bumping into the trunk and shaking the entire vehicle. In the backseat, Kíli started crying, and Fíli was trying to console him between panicked breaths.

Bilbo gripped the steering wheel and swallowed against the nausea rising in his gut. The dead had surrounded the car entirely, filling the tiny space with a chorus of growls and haphazard thumps. They blocked the windows, casting shifting shadows over the interior.

He turned back to look at the boys. “Get down on the floor. I’m going to get us out of here, all right?” He waited until Fíli met his eyes, then said, “We’re going to be fine.”

Whether that was the truth was another question, but he wasn’t about to have them be any more afraid than they already were. Bilbo turned back around and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward into the crowd. Some of the dead fell onto the hood, while others were pushed underneath.

He kept going, barely hearing the thudding of the bodies over the ringing in his ears. He prayed his tires wouldn’t get caught amidst the corpses on the ground, or that he would accidentally drive into a streetlight, since he could barely see anything beyond the shifting mass of bodies.

The grimy sign for Silver Street flashed by as he made another turn and finally managed to drive clear of the crowd. He heard a  _ crack _ that sounded suspiciously like a bone breaking beneath his tire, and fought back another wave of nausea. The horde behind him roared and clawed at his trunk, but they soon fell behind as he flew down the street.

As the streets became empty once more, a ringing silence fell on the car. Kíli was still sniffling in the backseat, and Fíli had gone completely quiet.

Bilbo didn’t dare speak. He steered the car out of the city and back along the road to his apartment, nearly in a trance. Once he caught himself using his blinker, and didn’t quite know what to think of it.

He pulled into his usual space in the parking lot and sat completely still for a moment. His heart was still pounding. He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut again as his stomach turned violently.

There was no way he could take care of the boys if he could barely function himself. Bilbo closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, then managed a, “Come on,” and stepped out of the car.

His bumper and hood were dented in several places, and the whole thing was smeared with dirt and blood and other things he couldn’t even begin to identify. He turned away, feeling dizzy, and led the boys back up to his apartment.

As soon as he opened the door, Kíli rushed past him and made a beeline for the room he shared with his brother. The door slammed shut. Fíli followed him at a more sedate pace, not bothering to look back at Bilbo as he entered the bedroom.

Feeling numb, Bilbo went to the kitchen and filled up a glass of water from the sink. It had only barely touched his lips before he put it down again and was dry heaving over the sink. Once that had subsided, he leaned his elbows against the counter and put his face in his hands.

He never should have taken them into the city. The kids hadn’t known any better—they’d only wanted to find their family. But he had seen the news reports, listened to the radio during those final days. He should have known those hellish streets were no place for a couple of children.

Bilbo took a couple more minutes to gather himself, then walked over to the bedroom door and cracked it open. The brothers were sitting on the bed, and Fíli had his arms wrapped around Kíli’s shoulders as his shoulders shook with small sobs. The sight made something in his chest tighten, and only added to the guilt churning in his gut.

He opened the door the rest of the way and walked into the room. Fíli shot him a look that might have been a glare, but didn’t protest as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I believe I owe you an apology. The both of you,” Bilbo said softly. 

Kíli lifted his head to look at him, a few strands of messy brown hair sticking to his tear-stained cheeks. Fíli kept frowning at the opposite wall.

Gathering his courage, he continued, “I should have known better than to take you into the city. And I am so sorry for putting you both in danger like that.”

“S’okay,” Kíli mumbled.

“No, it’s really not. It was a serious mistake on my part, and I promise I’ll never do something like that again.” Having Kíli’s forgiveness was all well and good, but that wasn’t what he was really concerned about. He glanced at Fíli, who hadn’t so much as twitched an eyebrow. “I-I’ll just leave you alone for now, shall I?”

Neither brother responded, so he stood up and made his way towards the door. Given the past events of the day, he couldn’t expect himself to be a comforting presence for the two.

Bilbo paused for a moment in the doorway, trying to think of something else to say, but there was really nothing to be said. He turned away and closed the door with a soft  _ click _ .

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that a nightmare interrupted his sleep.

He sat up, breathing hard, and tried his best to blink away visions of rotting hands clawing at him, a growling maw bending down to sink its teeth into his flesh—

Bilbo pushed himself up from the couch and made his way to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He hadn’t had nightmares this bad since the outbreak had first started.

No doubt the boys hadn’t slept well either. He dried his face and went to the bedroom door, opening it as quietly as he could. Kíli was fast asleep in the center of the bed, his small form dwarfed by the large blanket, but…

He opened the door wider and scanned the room, but there was no sign of Fíli anywhere. He couldn’t be in the bathroom, and Bilbo highly doubted he would run away without his brother.

Heartbeat drumming in his ears, Bilbo closed the door again and began checking the rest of the house, stopping first by the pantry, then the office, then the bathroom.

It wasn’t until he reached the living room again that he caught a glint of blond hair outside the window. He walked over and found Fíli sitting on the fire escape, knees drawn up to his chest.

He looked up as Bilbo pushed the window open, then turned away again as he climbed through the window and sat down next to him.

“Are you angry with me?” Bilbo asked.

Fíli bunched up his shoulders around his ears, then let them fall again.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” He tried for a smile, but it ended up looking like a grimace. What he feared more than a hundred dreams of walking corpses was the possibility that Fíli didn’t feel safe around him anymore, and that he would leave with his brother and the two of them would be alone again in this awful world. Even worse was the knowledge that it would be entirely Bilbo’s fault.

“We were supposed to find my uncle,” Fíli said, his voice raspy.

“Yes,” he said, relieved that he was at least talking to him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it there.”

“What if he…” His voice wavered. “What if he turned into one of those...things?”

“No, no.” Bilbo hesitated, then reached out and placed a comforting hand on his back. “I’m sure that’s not the case. If he is anything like you and your brother, then I’m sure he was smart enough to get out of the city before it was overrun.”

Fíli finally turned to look at him, tears welling in his eyes. “H-How are we gonna find him? And my parents?”

“Well.” He didn’t really have an answer to that. “I’m sure something like that will be much easier once this whole thing gets sorted out. The military will come in and clear up the city, get the phone lines back up, and then we’ll get in touch with your family. All right?”

He sniffled and nodded.

“In the meantime, you are perfectly welcome to stay here. I-If you’ll give me a second chance, I’ll keep you both safe.”

“Okay.” Fíli bowed his head, tears finally dripping down his cheeks.

At this, it felt as if someone had deflated the bubble of anxiety in his chest. He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Fíli’s shoulders. “You’re going to be all right. You mustn’t give up hope, now.”

Hope was something Bilbo had given up a few weeks after the radio had gone silent. But he wasn’t living in isolation anymore, and he couldn’t just think of himself. It wouldn’t do to live in resignation that the world had ended for good.

For the sake of these two boys, he would have to give hope another try.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my younger siblings are in high school and I rarely interact with little kids, so if I get the dialogue/behavior wrong of a 12 and/or 7 year old please let me know!  
> Also I don't really write in the horror genre but I hope this came across as actually scary. I know I probably scared Fili and Kili...sorry about that....


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

“Then you fold it like so, and crease it right here, and…” Bilbo held up the piece of paper and spread its little folded wings. “There you have it: an origami dragon.”

Fíli frowned and held up his own dragon, which looked a bit more like a lopsided raptor. “I don’t think I did this right.”

Kíli, who had long since given up any sort of advanced folding, held up his seventh paper airplane and launched it at his brother’s head. 

“Hey!” Fíli crumpled up his dragon-raptor, hitting him square on the nose with it. They both leapt up and began running around the room, throwing whatever they could find at the other.

Bilbo smiled and sat back, though he kept a close eye to make sure they didn’t throw anything particularly dangerous. It was nice to see them laughing and having fun. It had taken them a couple weeks to finally warm up to living in the apartment, and for all three of them to stop having nightmares from their trip into the city.

Now that they were acting their age again, he had become particularly aware of the fact that his apartment was not exactly meant for children. He had been the last one to grow up here, and all of his childhood toys had been sold or given away years ago. There was only so much time the boys could spend reading books or playing with his excess of printer paper.

He reached over and closed the origami book, then went to put it back on its proper place on the shelf. A lack of entertainment they could live without, but they were running low on food, too. He’d been putting off going out for fear of leaving the boys alone, but they only had a day or two before they would run out entirely.

“Boys?” Bilbo walked into the bedroom, where the two of them were jumping on the bed and whacking each other with pillows. “We’re running low on food, so I—”

Fíli swung a pillow at his brother and it burst upon impact, sending a cloud of feathers fluttering down over the comforter. Kíli fell on his back, giggling, and Bilbo winced as he narrowly missed cracking his skull against the headboard.

Still holding the empty pillowcase, Fíli turned to Bilbo, his smile wavering. “Sorry…”

“That’s...That’s quite all right.” Once, he would have been very upset, since those were rather expensive down pillows, but the end of the world had taught him that there were more important things in life. “I’m going out to find some more food. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours, but if you could both straighten up while I’m gone,” he gestured to the mess of feathers, “that would be much appreciated.”

Fíli nodded and knelt down to scoop up the mess, gesturing for his brother to do the same. Kíli sat up and spat a mouthful of feathers at him.

Bilbo smiled and shook his head. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He gathered his gun, his key, and his map from the kitchen, then headed down to his car.

His tank was nearly empty, and he tapped the meter with a frown. Gas had been getting particularly hard to find, and the last thing he wanted was to run out entirely and be stranded two towns over.

Though it seemed he would be going farther than that. Bilbo checked his map, where he’d already marked off all the areas he’d been to, and let out a grumble. Moving somewhere else was becoming less of a possibility and more of an inevitability, and he didn’t even want to think about how that would work now that he had two children in his care.

That, Bilbo decided as he spend down the highway, was a question for another day.

* * *

 

It had taken a couple hours of searching, but Bilbo had managed to find a gas station with enough left to get him back up to half a tank. Not only that, but he’d dug through the storage room in the back of a grocery store and managed to find a whole unopened box of beans, as well as a few individual boxes of pasta.

The find had left him in good spirits, and he hummed a little tune as he deposited the food in his trunk and pushed it closed. The sun was getting closer to the horizon, and he had no doubt the boys were hungry and waiting for him.

Bilbo had his hand on the car door when a voice made him jump: “Oi!”

He turned to the other end of the parking lot, where three men—three rather  _ large _ men—were coming towards him. 

“You know if there’s anything in there?” The one who had spoken gestured towards the grocery store.

“Uh, n-not much of value.” Bilbo kept a hand on the door, considering the gun in his pocket. “Some paper towels, a few bags of flour.”

“Yeah?” The three men continued their advance. They walked with loose arms and broad shoulders, like a group of bullies from the local school. “You got a camp or something? People you’ve been staying with?”

“No.” Heis free hand crept into his pocket, fingers closing around the handle of his gun. His palms were already sweating. “I’ve just been traveling on my own.”

They exchanged glances, and Bilbo clenched his jaw. “Well,” the apparent leader of the group said, “we’ll let you be on your way. You find any food, save some for us, eh?” He winked.

Bilbo nodded jerkily and slipped into his car, locking the doors immediately. He drove across the parking lot as quickly as he could, watching the men so closely in his rearview mirror that he nearly drove up onto the curb. Before he pulled onto the road, he saw them climbing into their own vehicle.

“ _ Shit _ .” He pressed hard on the gas pedal and took off down the road. There was always the chance he was being paranoid, but he couldn’t afford to take chances. Whatever happened, he was  _ not _ going to lead a group of dangerous men back to Fíli and Kíli.

He had to go north to get back home, but he took the highway east, hoping to throw them off his trail. The sun cast long shadows over the road, but he kept his lights off. Perhaps he’d find a quiet neighborhood with lots of winding streets and lose them there. Or, if things got particularly desperate, he’d bury his car in another crowd of dead people. The thought made him shudder.

The sun glinted more than once off the windows of the car pursuing him, though they stayed far enough behind that he lost sight of them more than once. Bilbo tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, muttering curses under his breath that would have made his father blanch. An irritated sort of anger was building beneath his sternum. A bunch of mindless dead people he could handle to a certain extent, but who were these men to try and stalk him and rob him of his food? He had children to get back home to, and it was absolutely inconvenient that he had to stop and throw off a bunch of robbers.

He took the next exit and sped up almost dangerously, determined to lose them as soon as possible. A sign on the right advertised one Wesley Street, and he turned into the small development.

It was quiet, shaded with trees that only allowed a few slivers of orange sunlight to illuminate the road. Bilbo picked a house a little ways down the street and drove up into the driveway, then steered around the house and parked his car there. A plastic lawn chair tumbled away upon impact with his bumper, and he silently apologized to whoever owned the house (and hoped they weren’t currently in it).

Heart pounding, he turned the engine off and climbed out, creeping over to the corner of the house. He waited in silence, eyes and ears on high alert for another vehicle down the road.

Several minutes ticked by, and he heard nothing but the rustle of tree leaves. It was quite possible he’d successfully lost the men—none of them had seemed terribly bright. 

Or perhaps they were lying in wait at the end of the road, ready to spring a trap on him and steal his car and everything inside it. 

He stayed crouched at the corner of the house, fear and uncertainty keeping him frozen. It wasn’t until it was almost completely dark that he reasoned it would be worse for Fíli and Kíli if he kept them waiting any longer, and besides, he did have a gun if things went wrong.

Bilbo crept back over to his car and turned it on, then drove back down the driveway and onto the road. Each movement in the shadows set him further on edge, but there were no cars lying in wait as he drove back out of the development.

He waited until he was back on the highway to turn on his headlights, and then drove a little faster than he was comfortable back to the apartment.

A dozen different apologies were running through his mind when he finally pulled into the parking lot, but they were soon forgotten as he spotted a strange white shape soar through the air before disappearing behind a row of bushes.

“What on earth…” He stopped the car and stepped out, leaving the food for now as he went to investigate.

There was a small patio on one side of the building, bordered by bushes for some semblance of privacy, and it was here that he found Fíli and Kíli.

“Ready?” Fíli called from the patio, dribbling a soccer ball with both feet.

Grinning, Kíli ran backwards, stopping a few feet away from a small grove of trees near the apartment building. Fíli kicked the ball as hard as he could and his brother lifted his hands to catch it, but it soared over his head and into the trees.

Bilbo put his hands on his hips, torn between feeling annoyed at their irresponsibility and guilty at his own. “Having fun, are we?”

“Um.” Fíli looked at him and froze. It was quite clear he knew he had done something wrong. “We were just...”

“I’ll go get the ball,” Kíli said, probably as an excuse to flee the tense moment, and sprinted into the trees.

“Look,” Bilbo said, walking closer to the elder. “I know I came back much later than I said I would, but that doesn’t mean the two of you can leave the apartment.”

“We weren’t gonna go far,” Fíli said with a shrug.

“Yes, well, if something were to—”

Kíli let out a scream. Bilbo and Fíli both jumped at the noise and ran for the trees. A moment later, the boy burst from the undergrowth, the soccer ball clutched between his hands. One of the dead lurched after him, clumsily reaching for the back of his shirt.

The soccer ball slipped from between Kíli’s hands, and he tripped over it as it hit the ground. The corpse growled and lunged for him.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Bilbo threw all of his weight forward, ramming his shoulder into the monster’s chest. His momentum sent both of them toppling to the ground.

“Get inside!” he shouted to the boys as Fíli rushed to help his brother up. “ _ Now! _ ”

The corpse let out another growl, and Bilbo almost gagged as its rotten breath washed over his face. He pushed himself away and tried to stand up, but its hands closed around his leg, pulling him down again. He let out a yell and kicked as hard as he could, striking its jaw.

It took a couple more kicks to finally get himself loose. He scooted away on the damp grass, breathing hard. The corpse rolled onto its stomach and pawed at the grass. Bilbo didn’t know if it was able to stand, and wasn’t willing to find out. He pushed himself to his feet and glanced towards the building. Fíli and Kíli were waiting just inside the glass door, watching him with wide eyes. He made a gesture that plainly meant  _ Get upstairs _ , and the two fled down the hallway.

Bilbo managed to make it back to his car on unsteady legs, then collapsed in the driver’s seat. He sat there for a moment and just breathed, letting the adrenaline of the moment fizzle out. And though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he bent down and rolled up his pants. The skin there was clear, not so much as a scratch marring the surface.

He let out a sigh of relief and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel.

_ Not dead yet _ .

As much as he would have liked to sit there for another twenty minutes, he had some food to bring in...and a couple of boys to scold.

Fíli and Kíli were in the the living room when he walked in. They stared at him, standing stiffly, and made no move to help as he set the box of food on the kitchen table.

Bilbo turned back to them and sighed, resting one arm on the doorframe. He really didn’t want to do this, but they could have died. Poor Kíli had been inches away from being bit. The memory, the image of him struggling on the ground as a walking corpse loomed over him, was enough to tear his words from his throat.

“I-I don’t know what you two were thinking. I really don’t. I thought you would have realized by now that it’s not  _ safe _ to be outside on your own!”

He couldn’t see much in the dimness of the room, but Kíli looked as if he were trying to hold back tears.

“Why on earth did you go outside in the first place?”

“We got bored,” Fíli said, his jaw stiff. “We didn’t know when you were coming back.”

“Well, I honestly expected better from you. Look at what almost happened to your brother,” he gestured to Kíli, who was clutching his brother’s sweater in one hand. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t be there for you every second of the day, and when I’m not, it’s up to you to keep him safe!”

Fíli bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice wavering.

Bilbo sighed, his shoulders slumping. That was about all the anger he had reserved for today. He walked over to his armchair and sat down, looking up at them. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen. To either of you. A-And this is all new to me. I don’t have children of my own, and I’ve never done anything like this before. But we’ll figure this out, all right? Just promise me you’ll be smart about this.”

They both nodded and sniffled.

“Good.” He stood up, and Kíli stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his waist. He stiffened in shock for a moment, then wrapped one arm around him. With the other, he reached over to squeeze Fíli’s shoulder. “Now, I don’t know about you two, but I’d rather like some dinner right now.”

As if to prove his point, his stomach gave a low grumble, and Kíli gave a watery snicker.

Smiling, he released him and headed for the kitchen. “I hope you both like beans.”

* * *

 

Bilbo folded his hands on the kitchen table. “There’s something I want to discuss with you both. This is by no means something you’re obligated to do, but I thought I’d bring it up.”

It had now been a month since Fíli and Kíli had been staying with him, and he could tell they were both getting restless. They had been very conscientious about obeying his rule about staying inside, but there was only so much entertainment they could get from kicking the soccer ball up and down the hall or throwing paper airplanes off the fire escape.

“I need to go out to get food again, and I was wondering if you two would feel comfortable coming with me,” he said, searching both their faces. “We could try and find you some toys and clothes while we’re out. And I’d be able to keep a closer eye on you.”

Kíli rested his elbows on the table with a frown. “Will we run into monsters again?”

“I-I can’t promise that we won’t.” In truth, there were a lot of risks associated with bringing them outside. There were the dead, and even worse, the threat of men like the ones that had followed him a couple weeks ago.

“We know how to hide if there’s bad men,” Fíli said, straightening up. “We’ve done it before.”

“Yes, well, hopefully we won’t run into anyone. It certainly won’t be as bad as the city. And you’ll have me to look out for you. I just thought it would be good for the two of you to get out of the apartment.”

Both of them brightened at that, and their cheer continued all the way down to the car once they’d agreed to go.

“I can’t make any promises, but what sort of toys would you like to get?” Bilbo asked as he sat in the driver’s seat.

Kíli immediately started rattling off about some Lego set he’d seen on TV and all the different things you could build with it. Bilbo had no idea what he was talking about, having been more of a bookish child himself, but seeing the boy happy and excited was enough to make him smile.

Forty-five minutes later, they were pulling up to a strip mall, which had a toy store, a clothing outlet, and a small grocery store among other establishments. Bilbo decided to stop at the former first, so the boys would at least have something to entertain themselves with while he checked out the other places.

There were half a dozen cars scattered about the parking lot, and he eyed each of them warily, but they all appeared empty and broken down.

“All right,” he said, pulling to a stop. “I’m going to go in alone and check out the store, make sure it’s safe. I want you two to hide down there in the back—I’ll crack the windows since it is rather warm—and I’ll come back and get you once I’m done.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Fíli asked.

“Um.” Bilbo shifted at the rather nebulous question. There were quite a lot of things that could go wrong, and he didn’t have a plan for every single one of them. “Whatever you do, do not come out unless I say so. And...i-it’ll be all right.”

For a moment, he wondered if what he was doing was unnecessarily risky, if he was about to put the boys in danger. But driving them back would be a waste of time and gas, and it wouldn’t do them any good to be cooped up in an apartment for...however long this apocalypse was supposed to take.

“Be good, the both of you,” Bilbo said, then climbed out of the car. He watched them crouch down on the floor between the seats, then turned and headed for the toy store.

It was cool and dim inside, and eerily quiet. He found a few packages of candy behind the registers, and pocketed them to give to the boys later.

All things considered, the store wasn’t as barren as some of the other’s he’d been to. He supposed action figures and toy dolls weren’t the most essential survival tools.

The aisles were all empty, save a few scattered packages, some strange scorch marks, and a particularly nasty-looking bloodstain that stretched down the aisle.

He took a moment to check the storage room in the back and the employee section off to the side, but those were both empty as well (though he was disappointed to find the vending machines in the employee lounge had been smashed and ransacked).

With that out of the way, Bilbo made his way back towards the entrance, excited to tell Fíli about a board game he’d found and Kíli that there were certainly Legos in the store, though he had no idea which one he wanted in particular.

He stepped outside, blinking at the sunlight after spending so long in the store’s dim interior. As his vision adjusted, he could make out a man walking a few feet away. His heart stuttered.

There was a stranger walking across the parking lot, and his gaze was locked onto Bilbo’s car.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Fíli and Kíli were in full view, sitting back on the seats and locked in some sort of heated argument.

That was all he had time to absorb before adrenaline pushed him into action. The man hadn’t seen him yet, so Bilbo took a step forward, scrambling for some sort of plan. He wouldn’t be able to overpower him even if he were to surprise him—the man was much taller than him, and his muscles showed through his dark shirt.

Without quite knowing what he was doing, he pulled the gun from his pocket and pointed it at the man. “Stop!”

The man started at the sound of his voice, hand reaching for the gun at his hip. The sight sent a spike of fear through him. If this man managed to kill him, there was no telling what he would do to Fíli and Kíli.

Half-instinctively, he pulled the trigger.

His gun let out a tiny  _ click _ , and nothing more.

Seeing that his gun wouldn’t fire, the man pulled out his own weapon and aimed it at Bilbo. He took a few steps forward, his arm steady, and there was no doubt in Bilbo’s mind that this man knew how to fire a gun and would not hesitate to do so.

Nevertheless, he kept his own weapon level, or as much as he could with his shaking arms. At the very least, the man’s focus was off Fíli and Kíli for now. “S-Stay back. Don’t you dare go near them.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet through you.” The man’s voice was harsh, the lines of anger on his face clear.

The car door opened, and Fíli stumbled out. “Wait!”

_ No, no, Fíli you fool, get back in the car _ . Bilbo waited with a clenched jaw as the boy began running towards them.

“It’s okay! Don’t shoot!” He broke into a run, and a moment later, Kíli jumped out of the car as well. “He’s not a bad man, Uncle Thorin. It’s okay.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There he is! I've been kind of weighing this plot-wise, but would you guys be interested in seeing some scenes from Thorin's POV? Let me know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 

_ Uncle? _ Bilbo lowered his gun as Fíli stopped next to the man, who put a protective hand on his shoulder.

Kíli stopped on his other side. “Fíli’s right. He’s not a bad man.”

The man, apparently named Thorin, looked back at Bilbo, eyes narrowed in suspicion. The gun was still aimed at his head.

Well, one of them was going to have to lower their weapon first. Bilbo relaxed his arms, holding both hands up in surrender. “I-I don’t want to hurt you. I was just trying to keep Fíli and Kíli safe. I didn’t know who you were.”

At this, Thorin finally lowered his weapon, and Bilbo felt his body deflate in relief. “I’m their uncle. How do you know them?”

“I-It’s a bit of a long story. I’ve been looking out for them for the past few weeks.”

Kíli tugged on the hem of Thorin’s shirt. “Can we go see mom and dad?”

Thorin looked down at him, gaze softening slightly, and nodded. “They’ve been worried about you.”

Fíli straightened, eyes widening. “You found them?”

“They’re not far from here.” He started towards one of the cars in the lot, the brothers keeping pace with quick, excited footsteps. After a moment, he turned and nodded for Bilbo to follow as well.

Bilbo put the gun back in his pocket and started walking. Now that his momentary spike of adrenaline had begun to fade, he realized with horror what he had almost done. If his gun had fired, he would have killed the boys’ uncle right in front of them. The thought made him sick to his stomach, and he swore he could feel the weight of the gun tugging at his pocket.

Fíli and Kíli clambered into the backseat of the black pickup truck, and Bilbo sat in the passenger seat as Thorin started the car. He sat in silence as they pulled out of the parking lot, twisting his fingers and trying to figure out how to apologize for nearly killing someone.

Thorin was the one to speak first. “You’ve been on the road with them all this time?”

“Uh, no. We were actually staying at my apartment north of here. W-We were just out getting supplies.”

His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, but he didn’t comment on what he likely considered to be an irresponsible move on Bilbo’s part. Although, Bilbo reasoned, if he hadn’t taken the boys with them, they would not have found their uncle at all.

“You were getting supplies at a toy store,” Thorin said flatly.

“Well, yes,” he replied, a touch defensively. “I wasn’t just going to have them sit there all day.” It occurred to him that they hadn’t gotten any toys, though hopefully bringing the boys back to their parents would more than make up for it. But he remembered the candy in his pocket, and passed it back to them. He watched Fíli tear open one of the packages and pour some jelly beans into his brother’s hand before taking some for himself and smiled.

He turned back in his seat and saw Thorin’s eyes flicker over his face for a moment before returning to the road. Even that split-second look had been piercing enough to send a little flutter through his stomach.

When Thorin spoke again, his voice was softer than before. “Thank you. For keeping them safe.”

“Of course.” He clasped his hands together, a strange sort of heat growing on his neck and cheeks. “It was the least I could do.”

“Not everyone would have,” he said, regaining his gruffness. “There aren’t as many people now who still have their humanity.”

Bilbo wondered if he was talking about the dead or the living.

“We have room for you, if you want to come stay with us.”

“Oh. Um, I-I wouldn’t want to impose…” The idea had caught him off guard, but wasn’t entirely unwelcome. He’d grown rather fond of Fíli and Kíli, and it would be nice to have others to depend on. But he didn’t know if he was ready to leave his apartment behind, the place he’d lived all his life.

Kíli appeared in the corner of his vision, leaning forward with his elbows on the console between the two front seats. “Can you come stay with us? I can show you my room, and my Legos, and we can all play—”

“We’re not going back to your house, Kíli,” Thorin said. “We’re all staying in a motel. And why don’t you have your seatbelt on?”

He leapt backwards into his seat, and Fíli quietly admonished him, though Bilbo distinctly heard the sound of two seatbelts clicking into place.

“How did you end up in a motel?” he asked.

“We originally met up outside one of the quarantine zones set up by the military. But it was overrun before we could get inside, and they—” Thorin stopped, apparently noticing Fíli and Kíli were hanging on to his every word. “We had to find somewhere else to stay, and the motel was the first place we found that had enough room for everyone.”

“Everyone?” Bilbo turned to look at him. “How many are there in your group?”

“Fourteen, including myself,” he said. “My sister, her husband, quite a few cousins, and some family friends.”

“Uncle Bofur is there?” Kíli made to get out of his seat again, but sat back as he remembered his seatbelt. “And Uncle Balin? And everyone else?”

Thorin nodded with a slight smile. “Almost everyone. We’ll be there soon.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t mentioned any sort of partner for himself, nor any children. This was certainly not the time to ask about it, but he stowed the information away for later.

A few minutes later, a motel sign came into view on the left side of the tree-lined road. Bilbo leaned forward to get a better look. The establishment was called the Prancing Pony, and the sign featured a horse reared onto its back legs, though a piece of the top one had fallen off.

The motel was a two-storied building that formed a U shape around a parking lot in the center. A makeshift fence had been cobbled together across the open end. At one end of the second-floor balcony, Bilbo caught a glimpse of a man with a funny-looking hat carrying a rifle.

Thorin pulled up to the chain-link gate on one end of the fence, and a couple of men walked over to unlock and open it. Bilbo caught sight of a brown, rain-smeared splatter on one of the wood panels.

There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot, all lined up to one side, and a beaten-up RV at the other end. An awning was attached to one side, and a group of people were sitting beneath it in a bunch of mismatched lawn chairs.

The car had barely pulled to a stop before Fíli and Kíli were both tumbling out and running to the group at the RV.

Bilbo waited they were parked before climbing out. The boys were both attempting to talk over each other while exchanging hugs with various people. Kíli seemed perfectly caught up in the moment, but Fíli kept glancing around the motel, as though looking for someone else.

Thorin walked into the group and began speaking with a red-haired woman, but Bilbo stayed near the car, feeling as though he would be intruding if he introduced himself now. Nonetheless, he realized he was smiling, heart warming as Kíli gestured animatedly to one of the men who had opened the gate.

“Mom!”

Fíli seemed to have found the person he was looking for. He sprinted for the stairs, eyes locked on a dark-haired woman that was standing on the second floor balcony. She ran for him, a man following her as Kíli followed his brother, and the four of them met halfway down the stairs. 

Their mother kissed them both, tears streaming down her face, and Bilbo felt moisture gather in his own eyes. Kíli was still trying to talk, his face, half-pressed into his father’s chest, and Fíli was trying to hug both his parents with shaking arms.

A slight prickling on the back of his neck made him turn. The woman Thorin had been talking to was watching him, and when they made eye contact, she nodded at him, a slight frown on her face. “Who’s this?”

Thorin put a hand on her shoulder as though to reassure her, and this was when Bilbo realized nearly everyone in the group had weapons. Several had guns or rifles, and those who didn’t had hammers or knives on hand. He resisted the urge to raise his hands in surrender and stepped forward.

“My name is Bilbo Baggins. Um…” Most of them were staring now, and some didn’t look entirely pleased with his being there.

“He’s been taking care of the boys for the past few weeks,” Thorin said. He locked eyes with Bilbo. “I just happened to find them.”

At this, some of them relaxed. One of the older men stepped forward to shake his hand. “We’re all very grateful for what you did. I’m Dori, and those are my brothers Nori and Ori…”

He went around the group, introducing the others: Óin, Bifur, Glóin and her wife Brana. Bofur was on lookout on the balcony, and Dís and Víli were Fíli and Kíli’s parents. Their group had three other people who were out on a supply run.

Bilbo nodded, trying to commit everyone’s name to memory. If he was going to be staying with them…

He stopped short. Just as when he had decided to take care of Fíli and Kíli, the thought had snuck up on him. The motel, rundown as it was, still felt like a home with a family to fill it. The more he thought about it, the more he  _ wanted _ to stay, as opposed to returning to his empty apartment.

Dís made her way through the crowd, having left Víli and the boys on the stairs. “You were the one taking care of them?” she asked, and Bilbo nodded. She walked up and pulled him into a crushing hug. “ _ Thank you _ .”

For once, he was rather at a loss for words as he returned the embrace. Dís was rather short, but probably could have crushed him like a soda can. But more than that, he could feel the desperate gratitude in her voice. He’d been panicked enough seeing the boys in danger after only knowing them for a few weeks. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to lose the children she had raised.

She drew back and held him at arm’s length. “I’ll never be able to repay what you’ve done, but if there’s anything at all my husband and I can do for you—”

“No, no.” Bilbo shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, really. I’m just glad I was able to get the boys back to their family.”

“Stay with us, then.” She gave his shoulders a squeeze. “There’s safety in numbers. Are there other people with you?”

“It’s just me. I…” He cleared his throat. In truth, the decision had already been made for him. How could he go back to his lonely apartment, face the increasing anxiety of food shortage in this desolate world, when he knew there was something better out there? “I have some supplies back in my apartment. It’s not much, but…”

Dís nodded and released him. “Every little bit helps.”

Thorin stepped forward. “I’ll take you back there. We’ll pick up your car as well.”

The two of them headed back to the car, and everyone moved aside to give them room to pull out. Bilbo glanced back at the group, and saw Fíli and Kíli watching him from the stairs. He hoped Dís would reassure them that he was coming back, and the thought spread a strange warmth throughout his chest. 

They pulled out of the parking lot, and Nori and Bifur shut the gate behind them.

“You said your apartment was up north?” Thorin asked.

“Yes. I’ll tell you where to go.” He rested his hands in his lap, and felt his elbow bump against the gun in his pocket. “By the way,  sorry for, um, almost shooting you.”

“Next time you want to kill someone, take the safety off.”

“The safety?” Bilbo took the gun out of his pocket.

“It’s a switch on the side. If the red dot is visible, that means it’s ready to fire.”

“Ah.” He found the switch and pushed it, revealing the red dot, then quickly switched it back. “Well, that’s good to know.”

Thorin glanced at him. “I’m surprised you’ve been able to keep them safe all this time. I’m guessing you haven’t run into many walkers.”

“Walkers? You mean the dead people?” Bilbo paused as he registered the first thing he’d said. “Hang on, what do you mean by that?”

“The first time you pulled that trigger was when you were trying to shoot me, and you didn’t even realize the gun wouldn’t fire. I’m wondering how you’ve managed the walkers so far.”

“I’ve run into a few.” He looked down at the gun in his lap. “I...I’ve just never killed any.”

“You can’t kill them. They’re already dead.”

He supposed that was true, but the thought of shooting one of those things still made him a bit sick. The only reason he’d almost done it to Thorin was that he wouldn’t have been able to stop him any other way.

“You know, they were alone before I found them. They’d broken into my apartment, actually, looking for some food.” He smiled slightly at the memory. “And they were trying to find a way to get to you, actually. We quickly found out that was a dead end, so…”

Thorin tensed, and Bilbo realized a moment too late that he’d said the wrong thing.

“You took them into the city?”

“Well, I—” There was no point in lying. “Yes, I did. And it was a stupid mistake, I know that now.”

His voice carried a low rumble of anger. “The city’s overrun. How the hell did you get out of there?”

“I-I’m not quite sure, honestly. They surrounded the car, but I just stepped on the gas and drove us out.” He sighed, feeling old guilt surge back into his chest. “I wasn’t prepared at all for what the city would be like. And I feel terrible for putting the boys through that. It was entirely my fault.”

Thorin took in a breath like he wanted to add to that, then closed his mouth.

He didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip.

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the apartment complex. Bilbo climbed out of the car and made his way towards the door, not waiting for Thorin to catch up. He was still embarrassed about the city thing. The niggling worry settled at the back of his mind that the others would not want him in the group if they knew what he had done.

Once he reached his apartment, he set to work, taking the box that had once held the canned beans and filling it up with everything from his pantry. After a moment’s consideration, he added some toiletries as well.

Bilbo looked up as Thorin walked in. “Is there anything else here that you might need? Bedsheets, cooking supplies, anything like that?”

He crossed his arms, surveying the room. “We’ll take the bedsheets. Bring any kitchen knives you have, too.”

He assumed that didn’t include butter knives and went to collect them from the drawer.

“Have you checked the other apartments?” Thorin asked.

“Well, most everyone left after the outbreak. Though Mrs Greenfield, down at the end of the hall, is dea—a, um, walker.”

“I meant, have you checked the apartments for supplies?”

“Oh. No.” He stopped short. Here he was, worrying about a lack of food, and he hadn’t thought to check the rest of the building. Thorin gave him a look that indicated the same sentiment, and seeing it sparked a bit of indignation in him. “No, in fact, I wasn’t exactly inclined to go looting my neighbors’ homes.”

“If they’ve left, they’re not coming back. Whatever they have is more use to us than them.” With that, Thorin stepped through the door again, presumably to check the other apartments.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that logic, though he did grumble to himself a bit as he finished packing his box. It was a good thing, wasn’t it, that he hadn’t immediately resorted to stealing from his neighbors once the world had ended. It was a good thing that he was still trying to hold onto his humanity.

With that in mind, he looked around his apartment in search of items that weren’t entirely necessary. It was possible this would be the last time he’d be here. He took a couple of his favorite books from the shelf and, after a bit of hesitation, took down his parents’ portraits and placed them in the box as well.

Bilbo picked it up with a grunt and carried it to the doorway. He turned around and looked at the room for a moment, the sunlight streaming across the light yellow walls, the heavy oak dining table, his comfy green armchair.

With an echoing emptiness in his chest, he stepped out and closed the door.

Thorin was busy testing the doors down the hall, so he left him to it and brought his box down to the car. He looked back up at the building, and the bright red of his tomato plants caught his eye. They wouldn’t provide much in the way of food, but it would be nice to bring a bit of home with him, something that would grow and add a bit of green to the space.

He went to retrieve his plants, and was halfway up the stairs when a gunshot burst through the hallway.

Bilbo jumped, wincing at the loud noise, then ran up the stairs, his heart pounding. He stepped into the hallway and froze. Mrs Greenfield’s apartment door was open, and she was lying just inside, a pool of brownish-red blood spreading beneath her head. It had been a month since he’d last seen her, and her skin was even more rotted and sagging than before, but he could make out a torn wound on the underside of her chin.

“Thorin!”

Footsteps sounded from within the apartment, and Thorin appeared in the living room a moment later. “Everything alright?”

He didn’t know why he’d cried out in the first place, but he couldn’t stop staring at the body. There were drops of blood staining her sweater, like drops of falling rain.

“She was already dead,” Thorin said, his voice softer. “Go wait in the car. I’ll finish up here.”

Bilbo nodded, feeling rather numb, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in the passenger seat, hands clasped between his knees. He stared at the dashboard, trying and failing to unravel the knot of emotion that had settled in his chest.

Some time later, Thorin came down with a couple boxes of supplies from the other apartments and started up the car. They didn’t speak as they left the parking lot, and the building was out of sight by the time Bilbo realized he had forgotten to bring his plants.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last scene ended up way angstier than I planned, which is how a lot of my writing goes lol  
> So now that our cast of characters has multiplied dramatically, I have to ask...who am I killing? I personally dislike reading stories where anyone in the Company dies, but this is a zombie apocalypse story...  
> I have definite plans to kill off one person in particular, but I want to know from my readers if you would prefer I keep everyone else alive or spice things up a bit. If I can't kill anyone, at least give me a potential amputee.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 

Bilbo sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the cool, misty air on his face. It was an overcast morning, and the dim light had prompted most of the group to sleep in. He’d woken up rather early, though, and now he was leaning against the second floor railing and taking a quiet moment to himself.

Down under the RV awning, Bofur, Dori, and Nori were sitting in a circle, poring over a sheet of paper.

“I think we should stop by a pharmacy along the way. There might still be some stuff in the back.” Bofur turned to Nori. “You still have those lock picking tools?”

“‘Course,” Nori said, then rolled his eyes as Dori made a disapproving noise at the back of his throat. “Do you guys have money for bail if I get arrested _?_ ”

Bilbo made his way down the stairs and walked over to them. “Are you planning on going on a run soon?”

Bofur turned and smiled at him. “We shouldn’t have to for a while, thanks to you and Thorin. We’re just taking a look at the area, trying to come up with a strategy.”

The paper on the stack of boxes between them was a crude map of sorts, with hastily-drawn boxes detailing residential and shopping areas and a few arrows drawn between.

Bilbo straightened. “I actually have a map of the area in my car. Give me a second—” He hurried over to where his car was parked along with the others.

After gathering the things from his apartment last week, Thorin had taken him to where they had left his own car near the toy store, and they had drove back separately. Bilbo had been glad for the release of tension. He was fairly sure Thorin didn’t like him, as their conversations had been short and curt. Though it didn’t seem he had told anyone else about the city fiasco, and for that he was grateful.

He pulled the map from the glove compartment and took it back over to the RV. Bofur took it with a grin and spread it out over the paper, though quite a bit of it dangled over the sides of the boxes.

“Why do you have a paper map of the area?” Nori asked, leaning one elbow against the chair’s armrest. “Those are pretty hard to come by.”

“Well, I’m a bit of a collector,” Bilbo said, sticking his hands in his pockets with a shrug. “I usually get them at antique shops or flea markets, but I think this one was a gift from a friend.”

Dori was leaned over and studying the map with Bofur. “I assume these X’s are places you’ve already checked?”

“Well, yes.” Bilbo leaned forward as well, and at Bofur’s prompting tug on his arm, took one of the empty seats. “I’ve circled some of the places I haven’t been to yet.”

“We should be able to cross-reference this with ours,” Nori said, sliding their paper out from under the map. “Get a better idea of where to go, find another safe place.”

He looked up. “Another one? What’s wrong with this one?”

Dori was shaking his head, and Bofur sat back and cleared his throat.

“Let’s just say I don’t like our odds here if something goes wrong.” Nori gestured towards their makeshift fence. “That thing would be down in a second if someone decided to drive through. Not to mention we’d be trapped here with no means of self-sufficiency if more walkers showed up.”

Bilbo glanced at the fence with a frown. “If any walkers come here, couldn’t we just, um, shoot them?”

“We try not to. The noise attracts more.” He patted the knife on his belt. “That’s what these are for. And I’m not talking a few—I’m talking a horde, fifty or so that could break down the fence with sheer force. We wouldn’t have enough firepower to stop them.”

“I don’t know where you get these ideas.” Dori clasped his hands and frowned at his brother. “What makes you think the dead ones are going to roam around like a mob?”

“They do.” Bilbo sat back. “I’ve seen them.” The thought of that horde of walkers surrounding them, with no metal or glass to keep them out, made chills crawl up his arms.

“Maybe we should start building treehouses,” Bofur said. “From what I’ve seen, I don’t think they can climb.”

He assumed Bofur was joking, but Nori said, “That doesn’t fix our self-sufficiency problem. I say we find the nearest prison. They’re as good keeping things out as they are in. There’d be some open space for crops, and—”

“A prison?” Dori spread his hands. “That has to be the least safe place we could possibly go. No doubt it’s still full of criminals, living and dead.”

Nori bristled at the way his brother said _criminals_ , but sat back and said nothing more on the matter.

Bilbo looked around at the motel, at the flimsy white curtains and the light yellow siding. The place was still unfamiliar, but he didn’t want to leave it before he’d even had a chance to call it home.

The group already had a routine of sorts, and it had been easy to fall into it. When they had begun putting his name on the schedule for watch duty atop the RV, it had given him a little burst of happiness in his chest that he didn’t quite know how to explain.

But then again, if they did end up running out of food, it was possible they would all have to leave.

It was possible they’d never find a true home again.

* * *

 

“It looks like a lot, doesn’t it?” Thorin sighed and placed his hands on his hips. They had at least a dozen boxes of food stacked against the wall of one of the motel rooms. But between seventeen people, it wouldn’t last them a month. Glad as he was to have Fíli and Kíli back, the addition of three more people to their group had put even more of a strain on their resources.

“We’ll have to cut rations down again,” Bifur said, and the two of them set to work dividing up the food for that day.

They had only been working for half an hour before there was a knock on the door. It opened, flooding the electric lamp-illuminated room with sunlight, and his nephews walked in.

“When are we eating?” Kíli asked. “I’m hungry.”

“Soon,” he said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “We’re dividing up the food now.”

Fíli walked further into the room, looking around at the stacks of supplies. They had batteries, water bottles, toiletries, a gallon bag of medicine, and a couple first aid kits piled onto the bed.

Kíli sat on the edge of the mattress and began swinging his legs. “When are we gonna go home?”

Thorin exchanged a glance with Bifur. He’d been hoping his sister would have dealt with this. “What did mom tell you?”

“She said she didn’t know. But I thought maybe you would know.”

“We’ll go back when it’s safe,” he said, passing a sheet of paper to Bifur so he could mark down how much food was left.

“When?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. As the weeks passed, it was becoming more of a question of _if_ than _when_. As far as he knew, the military had disbanded months ago, if they hadn’t all been killed first. Even if they somehow managed to handle the walkers, they’d have to find a way to bring order back to a population that was happy to loot and kill as they pleased.

“Bilbo was staying in his apartment,” Fíli said.

“He had his own reasons for that.” Even if their old neighborhood was no longer overrun, it would be a waste of time and resources to relocate the entire group to another place. Nori and a few others had continued to argue for it, but it wasn’t practical.

It still baffled him that Bilbo had managed to survive this long, and he reasoned he must have been luck more than anything. He doubted the man had so much as thrown a punch in his life, and his reluctance to kill walkers could easily get himself or someone else killed.

Thorin had wanted to leave him off the watch schedule altogether since he clearly didn’t know his way around a rifle, but Balin had reasoned that they could only give him daytime shifts so someone could come to his aid if something went wrong.

In the corner of the room, metal clattered as Fíli bent down to examine the duffel bag next to the nightstand. “What’s this?”

“ _Fíli_ ,” Thorin said, and he immediately backed away.

Kíli walked around the bed to see what his brother had been looking at. “Are those guns?”

The bag held the weapons and ammo they’d managed to scavenge. It was mostly handguns with a few rifles and knives thrown in. The last thing he needed was the boys getting into the stash.

“You’re not allowed to touch those, _ever_ , understood?” They both nodded, and Thorin waved them towards the door. “Go tell everyone we’ll be eating soon.”

It was such a mundane statement in such a different situation that it made him pause for a moment. He could pretend that things were normal, but he knew in his heart that there was no going back to the way the world had been before.

Eventually, they were all going to have to realize that.

* * *

 

“Here, Bilbo, can you come give me a hand with this?”

Bilbo looked up at the sound of his name being called and made his way over to the fence. He’d been helping Óin hang some of the washed clothes on the second floor railing, and was going to retrieve a shirt that had blown across the parking lot, but it seemed Bombur was having a bit of trouble with the board in his hands.

He walked over and steadied it so Bombur could finish nailing it to the one below. “Something wrong with the fence?”

“A few of the boards came loose during that storm yesterday, so I’m just adding some reinforcements.” Bombur gestured for them to switch spots so he could start nailing the other side. “If we could get some corrugated steel, that would make my life a lot easier, but of course that’s a little harder to come by.”

Bilbo waited until he’d stopped hammering, then said, “You seem to know your way around, um, building materials.”

“My brother and I worked for a construction company before,” he gestured vaguely, “all this.”

“I see.” He smiled briefly. “Then I suppose we’re lucky to have you both in the group.” He wished, not for the first time, that he had some useful skill of his own to contribute to the group.

“Oi, Bilbo,” Óin called from the walkway. “You mind getting that shirt before we have to wash it again?”

“On it,” he said. As far as skills went, retrieving laundry would have to do for now.

The motel was unusually quiet as he walked back towards the stairs. Thorin had become increasingly anxious about the state of their food, and had taken half the group out on a run, leaving the RV as the only vehicle left in the lot.

Bilbo was halfway up the stairs when Óin let out a sharp whistle and called to Dís, who was on lookout at the other end of the U.

“I see it,” she said, raising her rifle.

“What is it?” he asked, hurrying down the walkway to gain Óin’s vantage point.

It was a single walker, staggering out of the forest and towards the fence. The sight sent his pulse racing—it had been weeks since he’d seen one, and it had been a little too easy to fall into the fantasy that the walking corpses had been nothing more than a bad dream.

“No guns,” Glóin said, rising from where she’d been sitting near the RV. “There might be more around. I’ll take care of this one.” She took a screwdriver from her pocket and walked over to the chain-link section of the gate. “Hey! Over here!” She rattled the metal, and the walker lurched towards her with a growl.

Bilbo realized he was gripping the railing with sweaty palms, watching intently as the walker clawed as the gate, its jaw clacking as if in anticipation for something to bite. Glóin took the screwdriver and stabbed it through the opening, right into its skull. The walker gave one last growl as she pulled it out, then collapsed against the gate.

“You know that thing’s going to stink up the whole parking lot,” Bombur said. Bilbo grimaced. Already he could smell its rotting stench wafting with the breeze.

“Come help me dump it somewhere else, then,” Glóin said. She glanced up at Dís. “You got eyes on us?”

She nodded. “Don’t go too far.”

Glóin and Bombur undid the gate, then lifted the body and carried it across the street and into the woods. Bilbo watched them with a frown.

“Do you think there might be others?” he asked Óin. “Nori was saying earlier that more of them might show up.”

“It’s possible. The ones in the city might start moving out, look for another food source,” he said. “Not like we know much about them, anyway.”

He suppressed a shiver, imagining the horde from the city coming down the road. “Well, it’s possible they’ll pass right by us if we’re quiet.” He turned to Óin. “Right?”

“Like I said, we don’t know much about them,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think we can start making predictions like that yet. Now, help me hang up the rest of these clothes.”

Bilbo obliged with a sigh, trying to put the issue out of his mind. He’d done nothing but worry since this whole apocalypse business had begun, and frankly, he was getting a little tired of it.

Glóin and Bombur came back a minute later, and the motel fell back into a restful silence, save the thumping of Bombur’s hammer. The sun was nearly down when Dís straightened and called for them to open the gate again.

Víli’s group drove through a moment later, and Nori stuck his head out the sunroof. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Glóin asked as she closed the gate.

Inside the car, Dori could be heard grumbling at his brother. He and Bifur climbed out as soon as Víli parked the car.

Nori leaned his elbows on the roof. “We saw at least a hundred of ‘em coming from up north.”

“A hundred what?” Glóin asked, but Bilbo was already shaking his head in disbelief.

Víli stepped out. “Can you please get out so I can shut my sunroof?” He turned to Glóin. “Walkers. We saw a herd of them coming down the highway.”

“You saw a hundred _walkers_?” Dís’s mouth fell open. “You mean, together?”

Óin grunted and reached for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket. “I guess you were right, lad,” he muttered to Bilbo.

Nori vaulted out of the car through the sunroof and ignored the exasperated glare Víli shot him. “Yeah, they were all together. If they keep following the road, they’ll be here by midnight.”

“Jesus,” Bilbo muttered.

“Good news is, we found a few more boxes of food.”

Bombur sighed and leaned against the wall. “Did you happen to find some corrugated steel, by any chance?”

* * *

 

“You’re kidding.”

Víli shook his head, his expression grim. “I saw them myself, twenty miles down the road. Nori says they’ll be here by midnight.”

Thorin ran a hand over his face and cursed under his breath. He’d just come back from his run with Dwalin and Ori, and had been hoping to get some good news to make up for their rather disappointing haul.

The rest of the group had collected in a tight knot near the RV and were talking in low, tense voice.

“Some of them think we should leave,” Víli said, following his gaze.

“We don’t have anywhere else to go.” Thorin crossed his arms. “We can’t be looking to escape every time we run into a problem.”

He held up his hands. “You’d be better off telling them that. I’m with you on this one.”

“Right.” Thorin made his way over to the RV. Somewhere along the way, from meeting at the quarantine zone to finding the motel, he’d been made the de facto leader of the group. He was prepared to lead them, but whether they would all follow in the face of a threat like this was another matter.

“If we leave now, we can get ahead of the herd,” Nori was saying when he approached. “We could circle around west, head for the coast.”

“And what’ll we do when we get there?” Glóin asked. “Find a nice beach house to shack up in?”

“Well, my thinking is if those buggers can’t swim—”

“Wait, are you suggesting—”

“We’re staying,” Thorin said, making the whole group turn towards him. “We’re going to have to wait for them to pass. We can fortify the fence, stay quiet, and they’ll be gone by morning.”

“Thorin, I don’t know about this one.” Dís was shaking her head. “If something goes wrong and they get inside, we’ll have nowhere to run. We’d be stuck in the middle of the forest.”

“Mom?”

Everyone turned as Fíli approached, his brother not far behind.

“What’s going on? Are we in trouble?” he asked.

“It’s nothing, sweetie.” Dís made her way over and squeezed his shoulder. “Why don’t you take your brother back to your room?”

Fíli didn’t look convinced at all, but took Kíli by the hand and walked back to the building.

Thorin frowned. He didn’t see any point in lying to them, especially if a hundred walkers were going to be passing by that night, but he was hardly one to give parenting advice.

“I still don’t know about this,” Bofur said once the boys were out of earshot. “We don’t exactly have a ton of supplies, here. Tonight might be our only chance to leave for a long time.”

“If we get stuck, we can just pick them off one by one.” Glóin put a hand on her gun. “Those things can’t do anything except walk and bite, and we have weapons.”

“Um.” Bilbo tentatively raised a hand. “If I may…” He faltered for a moment as everyone looked at him. “We do know they’re attracted to sound, yes? What if we were to make some noise to distract them, lead them away from the motel?”

“You mean, like fireworks or something?”

“Do we...have those?”

“No, we don’t have any fireworks.” Dwalin rolled his eyes. “We’re just going to have to stand our ground.”

“And we can’t stand around discussing this any longer when we should be preparing,” Thorin said. “We’ll double up the watch and reinforce the fence. Check the perimeter, make sure it’s secure.”

Before he could start assigning tasks to people, Nori raised a finger and said, “I propose a compromise. If we stay, we still need an exit plan. We should put all the supplies in the vehicles, in case we need to make a quick getaway.” He looked around at the group. “And if we’re all still here come morning, then no harm done, right?”

“Fine.” Thorin nodded. “We’ll add that to the list of things to do. But we’re not giving up this place just yet.”

* * *

 

Bilbo was lying on his back, listening to the chirp of crickets and waiting for the sound to be interspersed with the growls of walkers. He had no idea how many hours it had been since they’d finished their preparations, but he sincerely doubted anyone else was sleeping.

He sat up with a sigh, considering gathering up one of his books and an electric lantern to pass the time instead of lying there worrying. While the room didn’t compare to his old apartment, it was starting to feel a little more homey, with his stack of books on the nightstand and his jacket hung up in the closet. He’d even asked Bofur for a couple of nails so he could hang up his parents’ portraits.

Looking at them, their placid but kind expressions captured in soft strokes of paint, he wondered what they would have done if they’d still been alive when the world had ended. His father would have prepared, stockpiled their pantry with canned goods and made sure they had all the comforts they needed to weather the storm. His mother, ever the adaptable one, would have been able to navigate this new world. She’d always talked about taking them camping, but he didn’t think she would have wanted it like this.

The door creaked open, and Bilbo jumped, one hand reaching for the drawer where he kept his gun. But it was only Fíli and Kíli, and he relaxed as they crept into the room and shut the door.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “Thorin told everyone to stay inside. Do your parents know you’re here?”

There were just enough rooms in the motel for everyone, but a few family groups had opted to double up. Fíli and Kíli shared a room on the second floor, and their parents were in the one next to them.

“Mom won’t tell us what’s going on,” Fíli said. They crawled onto the bed to sit cross legged next to him. Bilbo decided not to point out that they hadn’t taken their shoes off first. “But something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

He sighed. “So you’ve come to me to find out what’s going on.”

“Is it more walkers?” Kíli asked.

“Well…” He pinched a bit of the bedsheets between his fingers. “You know, it’s not very respectful to go behind your parents’ backs like this. They only want what’s best for you, and if they keep something from you, they probably have a good reason for it.”

“But we’re bored.” He flopped down on the mattress. “They just told us to go to sleep and stop asking.”

“That’s what they did before,” Fíli said, a hint of distress entering his voice. He didn’t elaborate, but Bilbo guessed he was talking about their reactions when the outbreak had first happened.

“All right, look.” He reached out and took both their hands. “We’re all worried that something dangerous might be coming tonight. But everyone has it well in hand. This isn’t going to be like it was before. Every single person in this motel would do anything to keep the both of you safe, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Fíli nodded, some of the tension in his brow clearing. Kíli stretched out his legs and asked, “Can we stay here? I’m still bored.”

Bilbo smiled slightly. “Of course you can. I don’t have much in the way of entertainment, though.” He glanced at the books on his nightstand. None of them were really at either of their reading levels.

“Can you tell us a story? Dad does that sometimes.”

A bit of warmth blossomed in his chest. The boys hadn’t just come to his room in hopes of some extra information. They felt safe with him, and wanted to spend time with him. He was glad that he could still be a part of their lives, even if they’d already found their actual family.

“All right.” He sat back against the headboard, thinking back to his old manuscript that he’d been working on. Perhaps he would get to share it after all. “Our story begins in a faraway land…”

Bilbo talked for hours, trying his best to remember what details he could. He was fairly sure not all the plot details tied together exactly, but he’d succeeded in one way or another—Fíli and Kíli were both fast asleep on top of the comforter. He could feel his own eyes drifting shut, and he let out a yawn. When he woke up, perhaps he’d get to writing some of those plot details down…

A muffled, rattling _thump_ sounded from the next room over, and Bilbo sat up, uneasiness burning away the sleep weighing on his mind. Fíli stirred and lifted his head.

“Wha’ was that?”

“I don’t know.” Bilbo stood up and slid his gun out of the drawer. It was probably nothing, but there was no harm in checking. “Stay here.”

A strange chorus of shuffling reached his ears when he stepped outside. The moon was the only thing illuminating the area, and it cast gray shadows across the parking lot. Óin and Dwalin were standing on the second floor on either side of the U, rifles in hand, and Bombur was sitting on top of the RV. He noticed Bilbo come out and put a finger to his lips.

As he stepped out into the light, a wave of movement caught his eye, and his heart dropped into his stomach as he looked out through the gate.

He’d come out right in the middle of it. The walkers filled the whole road, jostling each other with their haphazard gaits. They were moving rather quietly, with only a few low growls interspersed here and there, and Bilbo supposed this was why he hadn’t heard them from inside the room. None of them had stopped at the fence, and a small bit of adrenaline-spiked hope trickled into his chest. Perhaps they would survive the night after all.

With slow, deliberate steps, Bilbo turned and made his way to the room next door, where he’d heard the strange noise. He frowned as he realized it wasn’t another room for lodging, but the utility closet, where the boiler and cleaning supplies were kept. They rarely used the room, and he had no idea why anyone would be in there.

Bilbo opened the door, allowing light to flood the cramped room, and realized three things.

One, there was a back door at the other end of the room.

Two, the back door was open.

Three, a walker had made it through the door and was standing inside.

He only had time for an, “Oh, _shit_ ,” before the walker, having heard the door open, turned and lunged at him.

Bilbo stumbled back with a yell, one hand fumbling for his gun and the other flying up to push the walker away as it gripped his shoulders. Its weight dragged him down, sending them both toppling onto the concrete and knocking the breath from his lungs. Gasping for air, he abandoned his gun in favor of using both hands to try and push the thing off of him.

The walker growled, its clacking teeth narrowly missing the flesh of his forearm as he propped both hands against its collarbone. He could feel its rotting flesh slide beneath his fingers, and swallowed back a wave of nausea so he could shout, “ _Help!”_

Distantly, he could hear the group on watch crying out, could hear some of the other doors open, but all of his focus was on the creature currently trying to take a bite of his jugular. His arms were shaking from the effort of keeping it off him.

The walker’s head exploded as a gunshot rang through the air. Bilbo flinched as rotting blood and bits of bone splattered the wall behind them. The walker went still, and he shoved it off, breathing hard.

“Are you all right?” Bombur called. “Are you bit?”

Bilbo shook his head frantically, scraping his palms as he scooted away from the body. He could feel drops of sticky blood soaking through his shirt, just below his collar.

“What the hell just happened?” Dwalin shouted, his rifle aimed and scanning the area. Bilbo assumed he had been the one to take the shot, and made a mental note to thank him later.

The noise hadn’t gone unnoticed, though. The chain-link gate rattled as the walkers pressed against it, squeezing their fingers through the openings and snarling with clacking jaws.

“What the hell was that?” Nori leaned against the second floor railing. “Who just fired a gun?”

Bilbo turned at the sound of a low whimper, and found Fíli and Kíli standing in the doorway, eyes darting between the corpse on the ground and the dozens more clamoring against the fence.

“Christ,” Bofur’s voice sounded from the other end of the motel. “Is that a walker? How did one get in?”

Breathing hard, Bilbo finally pushed himself to his feet and stumbled into the utility closet. The back door was unlocked, apparently, and the knob was loose. It would have only taken a slight push to open it.

A movement just beyond caught his attention. He crept towards the door, scanning the forest just outside, and realized with a jolt of horror that the walker from the closet was not alone. There were at least a dozen of them coming through the trees, drawn by the sound of the gunshot.

Spitting curses under his breath, Bilbo shut the outer door, then hurried to close the other. Back in the parking lot, people were running, gathering weapons, trying to further reinforce the fence as more walkers gathered.

“They’re in the forest!” Bilbo shouted, hoping someone would hear him over the chaos. “They’ve surrounded us!”

“Get back, all of you!” Thorin shouted. “Get away from the gate!”

With a terrible screech, the metal hinges of the gate tore away from the fence. Bofur, Bifur, and Brana scrambled back, abandoning their efforts to push back against the tide of walkers as the fence crashed to the ground.

The dead began to pour into the parking lot, and all hell broke loose.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is lowkey just a filler chapter because the next thing I had written in my notes was the walker horde showing up, but I didn't want to have Bilbo get to the motel and then in the next scene throw everyone in jeopardy. So I hope you enjoyed some of the scenes here, and if there's anything in particular you'd like to see in later chapters, let me know!  
> It's also a little difficult to handle such a big cast of characters, especially since I introduced them all at once, so if you guys have any criticism or tips, feel free to share!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 

Thorin had barely unloaded three rounds into the herd of walkers before he was sprinting for the stairs, shouting for everyone to get into the cars. Ori, Bofur, Bifur, Brana, and Dori had already followed his orders, piling into the RV and yanking the door shut moments before a walker slammed into it.

Dwalin was standing at the top of the stairs, firing into the group of walkers, but Thorin motioned for him to head downwards. He turned to Óin, Glóin, Víli, Dís, and Nori, who were still on the upper level with him.

“Come on! Let’s get to the cars!”

The gate was on the left side of the parking lot, and though the stairs on that side had been compromised, they still had time to get down to the vehicles on the right. Óin, Glóin, and Nori ran past him and down the stairs, and Thorin paused to take out a couple of walkers that were getting too close.

Víli and Dís had gone the opposite direction, and were pulling a screaming Fíli away from the stairs. Thorin’s blood ran cold. Where was Kíli?

“Come on!” Dwalin yelled from below. “Get down here!”

The walkers had nearly filled the parking lot. The group by the cars was shooting as many as they could, and a few walkers turned towards the RV as its engine rumbled to life.

Thorin waited until his family was close to the stairs before climbing down and joining the defensive formation with the others. They were missing Kíli and possibly some others, but he had no time to do a headcount.

Nori ushered Balin, Dís, and Fíli into Bilbo’s car before climbing in himself. Dwalin was pulling Óin, and Glóin into his own truck, and shouted for them to get a move on.

Bitterness simmering beneath panic, Thorin turned towards his own vehicle. The motel was lost.

“Wait!” Bilbo was pushing his way across the parking lot, skirting the lower level. The walkers had already filled the parking lot, and a few snagged his clothing as he passed. He was nearly there when a walker lunged at him, taking hold of his shoulder, and he cried out as they both fell.

“God  _ dammit _ .” Thorin threw open the door to his car and climbed in. Víli joined him and closed the door just before a walker could stick its grasping hand inside.

In the rear window, over the milling heads of the walkers, he could see the RV inching its way through the crowd. Dwalin’s truck growled past, barreling over the dead bodies as it turned and drove straight through the fence.

“What the hell happened back there?” Thorin asked, his grip tight on the wheel as he followed Dwalin’s lead. “What happened to Kíli?”

“I-I don’t know. He and Fíli were running for the stairs, but the walkers came in and—” Víli took a shaky breath. “I-I lost him.”

Thorin muttered a stream of curses under his breath as they pulled out onto the road. The air in his lungs felt thin and empty. They’d lost Bilbo and Kíli. The younger, weaker members of the group, the ones they were supposed to  _ protect _ .

The herd of walkers thinned somewhat as they continued down the street. Dwalin’s truck was in the lead, with Nori in Bilbo’s car just behind them, and in his rearview Thorin could see the RV finally break free of the walkers and speed up to join them.

He could hear Víli’s breaths shaking with suppressed sobs, and he gripped the steering wheel until his fingers went numb. He’d been so focused on the walkers he hadn’t been there for the boys. He’d been so stubbornly focused on keeping the motel that his nephew had paid for it.

He should have been the one to keep them  _ safe _ .

Dawn had painted the air a pale yellow by the time Dwalin pulled up to a small town to stop, and the rest of them followed suit. Thorin parked the car, his motions automatic, and climbed out.

Dís was already making her way over to the RV, with unsteady strides. “Kíli?” she asked as Dori climbed out. “Is my boy with you?” Her voice cracked.

Dori went pale and shook his head. “I didn’t see him at all.”

In the back of Bilbo’s car, Thorin could see Fíli’s form, sitting unnaturally still.

Víli stepped out and wrapped his arms around Dís as she sank to the ground. 

No one wanted to move, and it was only when a low growl sounded from the storefront across the street that Thorin shook himself from his daze and stalked across the pavement. A walker stumbled out through the jagged opening of the broken window and raised its hands, grasping blindly for its next meal.

Its head snapped to the side as the butt of Thorin’s rifle connected with its jaw. The blow was strong enough to tear its flesh, revealing dark, slimy tendons beneath. Another strike sent it toppling over to the ground, and Thorin drove his weapon through the side of its skull. It stopped moving after that, but he didn’t stop, slamming his rifle down again and again as dark blood spread across the pavement.

* * *

“Wait!”

Bilbo was gripping his gun so hard it hurt, and though he’d switched the safety off as soon as the walkers had broken through the gate, he hadn’t yet fired a single shot into the crowd. 

He was nearly at the group of cars. Thorin and Víli were still shooting into the herd, just barely keeping the walkers at bay. He just had to push past a couple of them—

A snarl sounded at his shoulder, and he realized too late that a walker had managed to get behind him. It fell into him, and he felt himself falling over for the second time that night.

Bilbo cried out as its weight pressed into him, pinning the hand with the gun to his chest. He writhed, narrowly avoiding the snap of its teeth, then switched his gun to his other trembling hand. A spot of disturbingly cold saliva fell onto his cheek.

Desperation mingling with disgust, he pressed the barrel to the walker’s temple and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was louder than he thought it would be, and made him flinch. Blood and bone sprayed to the side, and the walker fell still. He had no time to catch his breath as he registered the shuffling footsteps all around him. He struggled, fruitlessly trying to dislodge the walker on top of him. If another decided to take a bite out of him, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop it.

But the walkers around him limped past and ignored him completely. Perhaps the fallen one’s stench helped disguise him, or they believed him to be dead already and not worth their time. Bilbo had no idea which it was, but he still had to get up eventually.

With a strained groan, he finally managed to roll the walker off him and stumbled to his feet.

“Oh, come  _ on _ .” The cars had already broken down the fence and were speeding off the highway, though this did have the advantage of distracting some of the walkers away from him. The RV was pulling out as well, its bulk struggling to push through the mass of dead bodies. Bilbo started forward, even though he knew he’d never be able to make it through.

A group of walkers stumbled, growling, towards the front of the RV, and as it drove away, Bilbo realized there had been a small figure huddled beneath it.

_ Kíli. _

The boy lifted his head, realizing his hiding place was on the move, then looked around in terror at the walkers surrounding him.

“Here!” Bilbo hissed, then ran forward to dodge a walker as it tried to grab him. “Kíli! Over here!”

His eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet and began to run for him. Bilbo dodged another walker and lifted his gun. As one of them lunged at Kíli, he squeezed the trigger. His aim was off, probably due to his shaking limbs, and blood splattered from the walker’s shoulder. But it was enough to give him time, and Kíli latched onto his arm as soon as he’d reached him.

“Stay close to me.” Bilbo shot another couple of walkers that wandered too close, and spared a moment to look at their surroundings. The RV was nearly out of the parking lot altogether, and they would get eaten alive trying to pursue it. His gun had attracted more, which left them with only one way to go.

He pushed Kíli ahead of him, towards the utility closet, then turned and fired at the closest walkers until he was out of bullets. With the grisly image of the pile of bodies he’d left on the ground smarting beneath his eyelids, he turned and darted into the utility closet.

The tiny room was thankfully empty, and Bilbo closed the door just as half a dozen growling bodies pressed against it. They stood in the dark for a moment, breathing hard.

“Are you all right?” Bilbo asked, feeling for wherever Kíli was. His hand eventually brushed against some unruly hair, and he moved it to his shoulder. “Did any of them bite you?”

“N-No.” His voice was shaking so badly it took him a while to get the single word out.

That was all they had time for at the moment. If their gunshots had attracted the walkers in the parking lot, then it was likely they had caught the attention of however many were in the woods.

And he hadn’t saved any bullets for them. Bilbo silently cursed his lack of foresight and gripped his gun anyway. They had to get out before the closet became surrounded on both ends.

Steeling himself, Bilbo pushed the other door open and looked around. There were about a dozen walkers at the back of the motel, clawing at the brick as though it would yield a way in. Through the shadowed trees, he could see more staggering their way.

“All right.” He glanced down at Kíli, who reached up to take his hand. “We’re going to have to run very quickly, now. Do you think you can do that?”

All he got in response was a shaky nod, but that would have to be good enough for now.

He stepped outside, using his grip on Kíli’s hand to keep him close, and broke into a run. A few of the walkers noticed him and started for them, but their fingers closed around thin air.

There were more of them further into the forest, shifting shadows that growled as they passed, and every sudden movement in the dark had Bilbo gasping and tugging for Kíli to go faster.

It was rather difficult for Kíli on his shorter legs, and once he began to stumble Bilbo realized his short, gasping breaths were not of terror but of exhaustion. He stopped, and the two of them doubled over, panting.

Neither of them had gotten their breath back before the grunts of the walkers reached Bilbo’s ears again. He cursed, too tired and exasperated to properly censor himself in front of Kíli. They could outrun the walkers for now, but the dead didn’t tire. They would be caught before they could find a safe place.

“All right.” He tugged on Kíli’s hand, prompting him to move again. The boy gave a small groan, and he wished he had the strength and energy to carry him properly. “Not too far, now.”

They darted through the trees, spurred on by the groans of the dead. Bilbo finally found one with sufficiently low branches and stopped.

“Do you think you can climb up?”

Kíli nodded, and Bilbo helped him up onto the first branch. He made sure that he had a good foothold, then turned to the rest of the forest, holding up his empty gun as if the mere threat would ward off the walkers.

There were two of them that he could see, though slight movements in the near distance hinted at the presence of more.

“Bilbo?”

He looked up. Kíli was about ten feet up, peering down at him with wide eyes.

“Yes, I’m coming.” He tried to climb up onto the lowest branch, gripping the trunk for support, but his sweaty palms slipped on the wood. He grabbed the next highest, but couldn’t quite manage to pull himself up. It seemed the end of the world hadn’t done much for his upper body strength.

“Bilbo?” Kíli’s voice came again, higher pitched this time.

He glanced backwards. The walkers were only a few feet away.

“ _ Drat _ .” He jumped, trying to sling his leg over the branch, and on the third try managed to find some purchase.

Kíli had climbed down a little ways and was watching him closely, poised as though he wanted to help.

“It’s all right,” Bilbo said, gripping another branch to pull himself up. “I’m fine. I—ah!”

One of the walkers grabbed his ankle and pulled. He flailed for a moment, only barely keeping his grip on the branch. The walker held fast and began gnawing at the sole of his shoe. Breathing hard, Bilbo kicked at its head, and its grip loosened slightly. Another walker joined the first and reached up to claw at his leg, through his pants.

A small hand grasped at his wrist, and he glanced up to see Kíli leaning down and trying to pull him up. Bilbo took in a gasping breath. He had to see Kíli through this,  _ alive _ . He couldn’t leave him here alone.

With a burst of energy, he braced himself with both hands wrapped around the branch and yanked his foot upwards. His shoe slipped off and fell from the walker’s hands as it reached for him.

Another spurt of adrenaline had him scrambling up the branches, barely noticing the scrape of the bark against his palms. Kíli was right there with him, and they only stopped once the branches became too thin to climb.

They looked down in silence, breathing hard, at the walkers as they groaned and scratched at the bark of the tree.

Bilbo turned to Kíli, feeling a bit dizzy. He’d never been good with heights. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

“You did well, back there.” He reached over to rub his back. “You make it a very easy job of keeping you safe.”

“What about my mom and dad?” Kíli turned to him, his expression faltering. “And Fíli?”

“They’re all safe. I-I think.” In the confusion, he hadn’t been able to keep track of everyone. One of their group might have been swarmed by the walkers and he would have no idea. The thought gave him chills. And he only felt colder as he realized Kíli’s family would soon believe him to be dead, if they hadn’t make that assumption already.

He glanced down at the two walkers and let out a sigh of frustration. They would have to make it out of the woods, somehow, and then find a way to catch up with the rest of the group.

“What do we do?” Kíli asked. He sat on one of the branches and began to rock back and forth slightly, and Bilbo hoped he had the sense not to accidentally tip himself over.

Bilbo scanned the area. The motel was out of sight, totally obscured by the trees. In fact, the leafy boughs were all he could see in every direction. The sky was beginning to lighten, though, and in a few hours it would be daytime.

“We’ll wait here, for now. Once we can see properly we’ll see what we can do about getting ourselves out of here.” Hopefully the next few hours would give the walkers time to clear out of the forest, including the ones at the base of their tree.

It was an uncomfortable wait. By the time the sun had risen, Bilbo’s muscles were cramped and sore from sitting in the tree for so long. Next to him, Kíli appeared to have succumbed to his exhaustion and was leaning against the trunk, fast asleep. Bilbo kept glancing over to make sure he did not accidentally fall over.

Even the walkers had mellowed out somewhat. One of them had gone to investigate some rustling elsewhere and hadn’t come back, but the other one remained, standing against the trunk in a strange, almost catatonic state.

Eventually, Bilbo decided they could wait no longer. They needed to find food and water soon, and he had no doubt the rest of the group was worrying more with each minute that passed. He reached over to wake Kíli, and put a steadying hand on his shoulder as the boy became aware of their surroundings.

“We’re climbing down, now,” he whispered. “If we do it quietly, we may be able to sneak past.” He nodded to the walker below their feet.

Kíli followed his gaze and frowned. “What if it gets us?”

He sighed and looked around again. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t wake the thing up. He could try getting the walker’s attention and leading it away, but he didn’t want to leave Kíli alone. Bilbo looked down at his gun and wished again that he’d saved at least one bullet. Not that it would have been entirely helpful, since the noise would attract others, but…

That was their only option left, really. If they had something to make noise and distract the walker, they would be able to escape. He glanced around the tree, but there wasn’t so much as a beehive that they could drop on the walker’s head like in those cartoons he’d watched as a child. They needed something heavier than leaves and twigs.

Bilbo looked down at his feet and sighed.

They took their time climbing down, trying to stay close to the trunk so as to not rustle any of the branches. Once they were six or seven feet from the ground, he motioned for Kíli to stop. Before he could convince himself that this was a bad idea, he slipped off his remaining shoe and aimed it a good distance away. He tossed it, and it rustled the branches of a nearby tree as it passed through and landed in the dirt with a low  _ thunk _ .

He held his breath and waited as the walker lifted its head with a low growl. Slowly, it turned and ambled towards the spot where his shoe had fallen.

Once it was a good distance away from the tree, Bilbo frantically motioned to Kíli, and they both jumped to the ground and took off. He took a moment to lament the loss of both of his shoes, though they certainly weren’t worth risking his life.

Whether or not the walker had heard their escape and decided to pursue them, he didn’t know. He didn’t look back, only scanning the woods in front of them to make sure they didn’t run into any more, and that Kíli did not fall too far behind.

The woods seemed to have cleared up from the previous night, though he didn’t let up his guard. The walkers were rather slow, and even if they had left the area, they couldn’t have gone far.

After a few minutes, the looming shape of the motel came into sight through the trees. Kíli tugged on his hand and gave him a questioning glance, but Bilbo shook his head.

“There’s nothing left for us there.” All of their supplies would have been in the vehicles, and he wasn’t keen to see if the motel was still filled with walkers. “We’ll have to stick to the road, see if we can find the rest of the group.”

Bilbo thought he could still hear growling coming from the building, so he gave it a wide berth on their way to reach the road. He thought it would be better to walk in the center, as they would see any walkers trying to sneak up on them, and he was less likely to puncture his foot on a broken branch. If the others decided to come back and check the motel, hopefully they would run into them on the road.

They walked in silence for the better part of an hour, still exhausted and shaken up by the events of the previous night, but eventually Kíli announced that he was hungry.

“So am I,” Bilbo replied with a sigh. Between them, they had only the clothes on their backs, an empty gun, and one pair of shoes. “We’ll try to find something soon, all right?”

He wasn’t confident enough to make that a promise. The road stretched before them, with trees looming on either side, and he had no idea how far they would be able to make it. 

But they had to try.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hello did someone order some angst? Speaking of, if you are in the mood for more Martin Freeman surviving in a zombie apocalypse, I recommend the movie Cargo, it's super angsty but really good!
> 
> I know they're all technically humans in this au, but JRR Tolkien himself appeared in my dream and said I had to take away Bilbo's shoes...so here we are
> 
> Also, slightly off topic but I've been watching a lot of Jack Black's youtube channel and his youngest son totally reminds me of this fic's version of Kili. Subscribe to Jablinski Games


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 

“We could still make for the coast. Find a few boats, maybe make it to an island. Wait this whole thing out.”

Thorin stared at the map until the lines began to waver in his vision. Nori was still talking, but he wasn’t really hearing him. It had been hard to focus—hard to think—since they had made camp after leaving the motel.

They’d cleared out all the buildings on the block and lined up the RV and some dumpsters to create a makeshift barrier across one end of the street. It had made a relatively safe camp for the day, but they all knew it was temporary.

Nori had been the first to start suggesting other places to stay. The coast, a prison, a warehouse—they were all viable options, but support from others had been lukewarm at best. Everyone was still in shock.

“We’ll have to get moving eventually,” Nori said, “and I’d rather it be soon. We don’t know when that herd is going to catch up to us.”

Thorin straightened up with a sigh. “You’re right.” He glanced at the dusty clock on the wall of the convenience store they were standing in. It was almost noon. Most of the shelves in the place had been stripped bare, but the counter by the register was large enough for them to spread out the map.

He’d been surprised to learn that it was Bilbo who had provided it. Looking over it now, he could see circles penned in black ink next to notes in neat, round handwriting. It was the only thing they had left of him, and even though he’d been in their group for a relatively short time, the thought brought an ache to his chest.

But Nori was right. There was no use dwelling on the past, not with walkers on their tail. “We’ll leave in an hour. I’ll tell everyone to start packing up.”

He left the convenience store, stepping out into the sunlight. The breeze carried the barest hint of a chill, a warning that autumn would be on its way soon. 

When he had last been outside, the rest of the group had either been resting in the RV or helping Bofur and Bombur take apart some of the tables in a nearby restaurant to help barricade their small camp. It wasn’t necessary, but the work provided a distraction from what had happened at the motel.

Dís and Víli were standing by one of the cars, talking to Balin. Even from across the street, Thorin could sense some tension between the three, and walked closer.

“I know what you’re going through, here,” Balin said. “We’re all grieving. But putting yourselves at risk like that—”

“We’ve already made up our minds,” Víli said. He and his wife were both armed.

“What’s going on, here?” Thorin asked, stepping up next to Balin.

“We’re going back to the motel,” Víli said. “We’re going to look for Kíli.”

Balin gave him a slight grimace, as though they’d been arguing the point for a while, and Thorin shook his head. “I can’t let you do that. You won’t be able to find him.”

“Thorin.” Dís’s voice was hoarse, her eyes bloodshot. “That’s our son. We have to find him. I’m not going to let him wander around as...as one of those  _ things _ .”

“And what about Fíli?” he asked, fighting to keep from raising his voice. “If the both of you leave and don’t come back, what the hell is that going to do to him?”

“We’ll give the lad a proper funeral once we’re somewhere safe,” Balin said. “But going back into that mess isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Listen, we’re going to be smart about this,” Víli said. “But you can’t ask us to leave this alone, to just move on.”

“No one is saying that.”

“We can’t split up. It’s not safe.” Thorin locked eyes with his brother-in-law. “I’m not letting you leave.”

“We’re not asking for your permission,” Dís said, and he let out an exasperated sigh through his nose. He’d known his sister her whole life, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to dissuade her from something like this, especially not when her sons were involved. If he denied her, she would hold it against him for the rest of her life.

Balin had known them both long enough to come to the same conclusion, and he turned to Thorin with a slight shrug.

“I expect you both back before sundown,” Thorin said.

Víli nodded, shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Keep an eye on Fíli while we’re gone,” Dís said as she opened the car door. “Please.”

He and Balin went to move one of the dumpsters so they could pull out, and watched them drive until they were out of sight.

Balin sighed and leaned a hand against the RV. “They’re both grieving, but Dís is a sharp one. You shouldn’t worry too much about them.”

“We shouldn’t be taking stupid risks like this,” Thorin said, shoving the dumpster back in place. “We can’t afford to. We thought we were prepared back at the motel, but one oversight cost us two members of our group.” He glared down the street. “There are no second chances anymore.”

“I hear you, lad.” Balin reached up to clap him on the shoulder. “You’d better see how Fíli’s doing. I think he’s resting right now.”

“Right.” He turned away, forcing himself to stop looking at the spot where the car had disappeared. The wound of losing his nephew was still fresh in his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else in his family.

“I’ll let you know as soon as they come back,” Balin said, then headed for the ladder to the roof of the RV.

Thorin wiped some sweat from the back of his neck and made for the door. He nodded to Dori, Glóin, and Óin, who were sitting at the table inside, then pushed open the door to the bedroom in the back.

Fíli was lying curled up on the bed, staring listlessly at the blank wall. He lifted his gaze slightly when Thorin came in, then returned to his original position.

“Hey.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed. “How...How are you feeling?”

All he received in response was a slight shrug.

His fingers tapped one knee as he tried to think of what to say next. He’d never known how to deal with the boys when they were upset. He was fine helping Fíli with his homework or playing video games with Kíli, but when it came to the more difficult side of parenting, he was lost.

For a moment, he wondered what Bilbo would have done. He’d been all but a stranger to the boys a few months ago, but in that time he’d taken care of them alone, and Fíli and Kíli seemed no worse for it.

“It wasn’t your fault, what happened,” he tried.

Fíli’s posture grew tighter, more tense. “I should have been looking out for him. I-I thought he was right behind me, but—”

“No.” Thorin put a bracing hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t up to you. And no one blames you for it.”

His chest jumped with a suppressed sob. “Mom and Dad are going to look for him. And they didn’t want to bring me.”

“How did you…” He glanced up, and noticed for the first time that the window was open. Fíli had heard their entire conversation. “They didn’t want to put you in danger. That’s the last thing they’d want.”

Fíli said nothing. He stayed rigid, eyes locked onto the wall with a furrowed brow.

Thorin sighed and removed his hand. Fíli had always been more reserved, less optimistic than his brother, but he’d never seen him so despondent before. He would have felt better if he’d decided to cry. He didn’t know how to deal with him otherwise.

“You let me know if you need anything.” He waited for a response, received none, then stood up and made for the door.

* * *

 

Bilbo winced as Kíli’s stomach let out another growl.

They’d been walking for hours, staying to one side of the road to take advantage of the shade, and hadn’t found anything in the way of food or water. Bilbo had tried scanning the brush for any berries or nuts, but with no luck.

His mouth was uncomfortably dry, and Kíli’s feet were dragging. His own soles were sore from the unforgiving pavement and a few rocks he’d accidentally stepped on.

There had been no sign of the rest of their group, nor any walkers. Bilbo assumed they’d driven to the next sign of civilization, but he had no idea how far down the road that would be.

“So,” he began, trying to think of something to talk about. He figured a little conversation would help distract them both from their hunger and exhaustion. “You were in school before...all this. What sort of things were they teaching you?”

Kíli shrugged. “Math and stuff. I think we were learning about the water cycle too.”

“Any books?”

“I don’t remember.”

Bilbo gave a small hum and frowned. He’d have to find some interesting books for Fíli and Kíli to read at some point. Just because the world had ended didn’t mean they couldn’t have an appreciation for literature.

A white shape through the trees caught his eye, and he put a hand on Kíli’s shoulder, motioning for him to stop.

It was a trailer, parked in a clearing about a dozen feet from the road. There was no vehicle to be found, but it had clearly been there for a while—it was covered in rain-smeared grime, and the windowsills were caked with dust.

Bilbo’s heart leapt with both hope and anticipation. A trailer, their first evidence of civilization, meant possible supplies, but the possible threat of people as well.

“All right,” he said as they drew closer. “I’m going to go in and look around. I want you to wait out here, all right?”

Kíli frowned and reached for his hand. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I won’t be far,” Bilbo said, even as his heart ached for him. After the motel, he never wanted Kíli to feel unsafe again. “Here,” he said, leading him over to a thick bush nearby. “I want you to wait here, and if you see anyone around, shout for me. And then I want you to hide, and I’ll come get you as soon as I can.”

Reluctantly, Kíli released his hand. “Promise you won’t leave?”

“I swear it.” Bilbo held his gaze until he was confidence he would do what he asked, then turned towards the trailer.

Inside, the windows were dark, and the door shut, but that was no guarantee it was empty. The last thing Bilbo wanted to do was disturb someone, especially if they were dangerous, but he needed to take that risk before one of them died of dehydration.

With one hand on his still-empty gun, Bilbo reached up and knocked. After a minute of silence, he pushed the door open.

A horrendous stench flooded out into the open air, and the sound of buzzing flies became audible. He gagged, turning away with one hand flying to his nose. The smell was a nauseating cocktail of old meat, rotting cabbage, and something else he couldn’t even begin to identify.

Kíli’s head peeked over the bush, eyes widening in concern, and Bilbo tried to give him a reassuring smile.

At the very least, he could be confident that no one was living in there, as he was sure no human being, perhaps not even a walker, would be able to tolerate such a smell.

Pinching his nose with one hand, Bilbo opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside.

It was dim inside the trailer, the air clouded with dust and flies, but his attention was immediately drawn to the scene in the bedroom. Through the narrow door, a dark stain against the back wall was visible. Bilbo stepped closer, and began to shake as he caught sight of the body lying on the bed, and the gaping hole where its jaw used to be.

With a strangled groan, he turned towards the door. That was it. He was going to be sick.

He took several heaving breaths, though there was nothing he could have thrown up anyway. Feeling dizzy, Bilbo turned back to the trailer. The rest of it was surprisingly neat, barring the dead body in the back.

The next thing that caught his attention was the whiteboard propped up on one of the counters. When he stepped closer, he could make out a message scrawled in green marker.

_ Dear stranger, _

_ If you’ve found this note, it means I’m already dead, and sorry for the smell. I have no place in a world like this, but if you feel you do, you’re welcome to take anything you like. _

_ Best of luck.  _

_ B _

Bilbo let out a slow breath and looked around the cramped space. As disturbing as it was to steal from a dead man’s trailer, he did have permission now. And it would be a heavier weight on his conscience if he let Kíli go hungry.

He thought back to what Thorin had said when they had gone back to his apartment for the last time.  _ Whatever they have is more use to us than them _ . With that in mind, he steeled himself and began searching the trailer for anything they might find useful.

His first step was to close the bedroom door, both to avoid looking at the grotesque body and relieve its awful smell somewhat. His next priority was the pantry, which was disappointingly sparse but thankfully not empty. He pulled out a couple of cans and a large bag of trail mix and set them on the table.

Going through the drawers, he took a pocket knife and a lighter, both of which would probably come in handy. The rest of the drawers were either empty or filled with pencils and towels and other things that didn’t seem worth carrying.

Bilbo was about to move on when he glanced under the sink and a half-dozen unopened water bottles caught his eye. He let out a sigh of relief, aware of the air rushing over his parched tongue. Kneeling down, he reached out to open the first one, then stopped himself.

Kíli was still watching the trailer when he walked out, and straightened when Bilbo beckoned him over.

“Here.” He unscrewed the bottle and handed it to him, struggling to swallow as a bit of water spilled onto his hand.

Kíli tipped his head back and drank in deep gulps, so quickly that Bilbo started to get a bit concerned.

“Slowly, now,” he said, putting a hand on his back. “Don’t want to make yourself sick.”

He finished drinking with a satisfied,  _ ah _ , and handed the bottle back. “Thanks.”

Instead of responding, Bilbo tipped back the bottle and downed the quarter that was left. The water was only slightly cool, but he could feel the sensation cascade down his chest as he drank.

“All right,” he said once he was finished. “There’s more inside the trailer. I’m going to finish up, but I want you to wait out here, all right?”

Kíli wrinkled his nose. “It smells bad in there.”

He nodded with a grimace, unsure how to explain what he’d found. “Why don’t you keep lookout for me? I won’t be more than a minute.”

“Okay.” He leaned against the trailer, hands behind his back, and Bilbo stepped back inside.

There wasn’t much inside the bathroom (he didn’t feel too keen on taking someone else’s toothbrush), but in the closet he found a backpack. Leaning against the corner was a rifle and a box of ammunition, and after a moment’s hesitation, he took that too. He didn’t even know how to load it, or check if it already was, but it would be a bit more help than his empty gun.

He glanced down at his socked feet with a frown, but decided he wasn’t yet at the point where he would consider prying shoes off a dead man’s feet.

With his sweep completed, he stuffed the food, water, and ammo into the backpack, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and stepped back outside.

“Ready to go?” he asked Kíli, who nodded.

“Is there any more water?” he asked as they began walking.

“Yes.” Bilbo reached into his pack. “But we should try to make it last. We don’t know when’s the next time we’ll be able to get some more.”

Kíli accepted the bottle and drank, more slowly this time, making sure to leave half of it left over. Bilbo smiled and stowed it away again.

They stepped back onto the road, and with the sun shining down and the reassuring weight of supplies on his shoulders, his heart felt lighter than it had in days.

“Would you like something to eat?” Bilbo asked, already pulling out the trail mix since he knew what the answer would be.

Kíli eagerly accepted the bag and munched on it as they walked. Bilbo could feel his stomach rumble at the sight of food, but he knew he could go hungry for longer. After a while, he noticed he was only picking out the bits of chocolate and raisins.

“You know, you should be eating the nuts, too.”

He shoved another raisin into his mouth. “I don’t like peanuts.”

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. Over the weeks that he had lived with the boys in his apartment, he’d learned rather quickly that Kíli was a picky eater. Fíli had similar preferences, but was more likely to eat what was in front of him without complaint. Thinking of the older boy made his heart ache, so he put it out of his head.

“To be fair, peanuts don’t taste very good on their own. Salted and roasted, however, they can be delicious. That goes for most vegetables too.”

Kíli made a disgusted noise. “I don’t like vegetables.”

“Well, that’s only because you’ve never had them cooked properly. My aunt Mirabella used to make the most delicious brussels sprouts, with olive oil and salt and some other sauce that she never revealed to anyone.” His stomach gave another growl at that.

“What’s brussels sprouts?”

He decided not to answer that. “Just eat some of the nuts, all right? If you only eat the sweet bits then you’ll get hungry faster.”

“I’ll eat them after.” Kíli buried his hand in the bag nearly up to his wrist in search of another chocolate bit.

Bilbo adjusted the straps of the backpack with a low grumble. He’d never had to try too hard in disciplining Kíli, as his brother had done a fine enough job of keeping him in line. Besides, he’d never deemed anything dreadfully important besides making sure they didn’t do anything irresponsible that would lead them to the jaws of a walker. But in this case, he did want to make sure Kíli wasn’t malnourished by the time he returned him to his parents.

He reached over to scoop a peanut out of the bag and held it up. “Open your mouth.”

Kíli eyed him skeptically for a moment, then did as he was asked. Bilbo tossed it the short distance inside, and he instinctively bit down and chewed on it. He made a face and swallowed.

“Still tastes bad.” He took out another peanut and held it out. “Your turn.”

“All right.” Bilbo dutifully opened his mouth, then laughed as the peanut hit his cheek and fell to the ground.

They went back and forth until the bag was halfway empty, and a trail of peanuts marked their path down the road. Bilbo knew it probably wasn’t wise to be wasting so much of their food, but he hadn’t seen Kíli grin this much since before the motel had been overrun.

The sun was setting by the time they reached the next sign of civilization—a gas station tucked between two clusters of pine.

Bilbo made Kíli hide while he checked the area, but the front area was empty, as was the small store in the back.

The shelves had been cleared out entirely, though Bilbo did manage to find a few bags of chips and some candy bars in some hidden corners.

“Look.” Kíli approached with a liter bottle of soda clutched between both hands.

Bilbo glanced towards the fridges lining the back wall. The power had gone out, so none of the bottles were cold anymore. He took the soda from Kíli with a frown.

“I’m not sure if this is good anymore.” He twisted it open and gave a tentative sniff. The soda had gone flat, but it didn’t seem to have gone bad. With however many chemicals were in it, he wasn’t sure if it  _ could _ go bad. Besides, they’d drank another two water bottles between them on the way here, their thirst not having been helped at all by the peanuts. They weren’t exactly in a position to be picky.

He took an experimental swig of the soda and hummed at the taste. It didn’t taste very good, but he’d take it over a dry throat. He handed it back to Kíli, who took a drink as well and nearly tipped over the bottle with his smaller hands.

“It’s not bubbly anymore.” Kíli looked down at it with a frown, then reached for the cap.

Bilbo decided to leave him to it, and took another look around the store. It would be a good place to stop for the night, though he would have to find a way to block the door in case any walkers wandered in. Perhaps he could move some of the shelves.

A swishing noise sounded behind him, and he turned to see Kíli vigorously shaking the closed bottle of soda.

“What are you—”

With an uncharacteristic amount of focus, Kíli opened the bottle again and held it out. A small layer of fizz rose to the top, but none of it spilled over.

“I thought it would make more bubbles.” He closed the bottle again.

“You would have made a mess all over the floor.” Bilbo put his hands on his hips, though he couldn’t hide his smile. “No more of that nonsense, all right? I’m going to start dinner for us.”

Dinner consisted of a can of beans split between the two of them, carefully pried open with his new pocket knife, as well as their packets of chips and candy. Bilbo didn’t know how long it would be until they found more food, or if he should be rationing it more carefully, but they were both hungry and tired and he thought they deserved a good meal after a day of walking.

Though the shelves were too heavy to move, he managed to push some of the smaller racks against the doors, and placed some empty cans and bottles on top. If anyone tried pushing on the doors, they would fall and hopefully  the noise would wake them.

Night had fallen by the time they settled down at the back of the store. Bilbo gave Kíli his backpack as a pillow of sorts, settled the rifle on his other side, and laid down on the tile. As far as places to sleep went, it was below a bed but decidedly above a tree branch. He was exhausted enough that sleep was already beginning to seep into his limbs.

He thought Kíli was also asleep, but his eyes fluttered open as he mumbled, “D’you think we’re gonna find our family?”

Bilbo took a moment to ponder the word  _ our _ , then decided that perhaps he was too tired to choose his words correctly. “I certainly hope so. We’ll keep looking tomorrow, all right?”

“I hope Fee…” Kíli started, but the rest of his sentence was lost to uncannily still silence of the room, and a minute later, his breathing evened out, and Bilbo knew he was asleep.

It wasn’t long before his own eyes drifted closed, and he wasn’t quite conscious enough to hear the low rumble of a car engine passing by.

* * *

 

Against Thorin’s wishes, they’d spent the night in the same spot.

Dís and Víli had come back exhausted and dejected, having found no sign of Kíli or Bilbo—dead or alive. That had been enough to lower everyone’s spirits, and Nori had reasoned that they’d be safer waiting until daytime to start traveling.

Víli had informed him that the herd that had attacked the motel had dispersed somewhat, and they’d taken a detour into a campground to lure them away from the rest of the group.

Now, as day broke, Thorin was helping to load the remainder of their supplies into his car. They were nearly ready to leave, and Nori had already outlined a route west, towards the coast.

Bombur let out a low, short whistle, and everyone turned to him. He gestured down the road, to the end they hadn’t blocked with the RV, and Thorin tensed as he spotted a man walking towards them.

He was bald, and bulky enough that his arms swung at his sides as he walked. His hands were empty, but the gun at his hip was visible.

Immediately, everyone had their weapons drawn and aimed at the stranger.

“Oi, no need for that.” The man held up his hands in surrender, but continued in advance. “I come in peace. The name’s Tom.”

“You stay where you are,” Thorin said, striding to the front of the group with his gun raised.

Tom took a couple more steps, then stopped. “I don’t want any trouble, see. I was just hoping for a bit of a trade.”

“We’re not looking to bargain with anyone.”

Next to him, Víli glanced around with a frown. “Doesn’t look like you have anything to trade with.”

“Who’s we?” Dwalin muttered, apparently loud enough for Tom to hear. He lifted one finger upwards.

“I’ve got a friend or two with me.”

They realized he was pointing, and looked up. Three stories above, a man just as burly as the first was standing on the roof of a nearby building, aiming a rifle down at them.

“That’s Bert.”

On the other side of the camp, Ori let out a yelp. A third man had climbed atop the RV and wrestled the rifle from his hands. He seized him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground. Ori let out a pained grunt as he hit the ground, and Dori stepped forward with a growl.

“You son of a  _ bitch _ .” He raised his gun, but froze as the rifle on the roof went off, and a bullet  _ pinged _ at his feet.

“And that’s our friend William.”

With adrenaline thrumming in his veins, Thorin turned to glare at Tom, and grudgingly motioned for the group to lower their weapons.

Tom smiled widely and drew his own gun. “Now, how’s about we figure out a trade?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone was sharp enough to guess that the men from chapter 3 were the trolls. I originally wasn't going to have them reappear because I didn't have a spot for them, but they decided to show up anyway.
> 
> I enjoyed writing Bilbo&Kili shenanigans in his chapter, though I feel bad about leaving Fili depressed in the RV...
> 
> I haven't read much fics about Dis and Vili as parents, but I decided to make them just a little bit headass. I figured they're young parents, probably met in college, still trying to figure this whole thing out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 

Bilbo winced and stretched his neck again. Sleeping on a tile floor had done a number on his back, and even after hours of walking he was still sore.

Beside him, Kíli stayed close, having fallen into a subdued silence earlier. They’d passed some campgrounds about a mile back, and though Bilbo had been tempted to see if their group was somewhere there, the place had been too infested with walkers.

His feet hurt as well, and he was considering calling a short rest when they rounded a corner and the white shape of the RV came into view.

He let out a short gasp, heart leaping. Briefly, he considered that it might be a similar one belonging to someone else, but as he drew closer, he could see a familiar dent in the side that confirmed it was theirs.

Kíli seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, and looked up at him with a hopeful grin. “Is that it?”

Bilbo smiled and opened his mouth to reply, but he froze as his gaze was drawn to the man standing atop the RV. His wide shoulders and bald head were unfamiliar, and a trickle of dread doused his hope.

“Something’s wrong.” He gripped Kíli’s shoulder and steered them off the road and into the trees. The man’s back was to them, but the rifle in his hands was warning enough.

As he crept closer and strained his ears, he could hear a faint commotion behind the RV. It had been parked sideways, with two dumpsters blocking the rest of the street, so he couldn’t see much. But the low voices assured him that at least some of the members of their group were still alive.

Their group must have been attacked, or at the very least threatened. His mind was already whirring through dreadful possibilities—blood on the pavement, screams and smoke, more sound to draw another group of walkers. He and Kíli had picked a terrible time to announce that they weren’t dead. But then again, if they were on the outside of this situation looking in, there was a possibility they’d be able to save the rest of their group.

Bilbo sighed and touched the rifle slung on his shoulder. He was no fighter, and he had a child to look after besides. What could he do where the others had failed?

A low growl just ahead made them both freeze. A walker was staggering through the forest just a few feet ahead. Bilbo pulled Kíli behind a tree, where they crouched down and watched the walker continue, drawn to the noises coming from behind the RV. It bumped into the dumpster and snarled, scratching at the rusted metal.

“Oi, what was that, Will?” came a voice from behind the RV.

The man standing on the vehicle’s roof turned around, and Bilbo’s mouth fell open. He recognized the man—he had been one of the three that had tried to follow him back to his apartment.

“Just another biter.” Will raised his rifle. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No gunshots.”

“All right.” With a low grumble, he made to climb off the RV.

It was possible this would be his only chance to act. With his heart pounding, he turned to Kíli. “I want you to hide here, all right? I’m going to try and get rid of these men.”

Wide eyed, Kíli looked as if he wanted to protest, but seemed to realize the urgency of the situation. After a moment, he nodded.

Bilbo slung the rifle off his shoulder and crept through the woods. The way he’d phrased it— _ get rid of _ —didn’t quite sit well with him. He had no intention of killing these men if he could help it, but he couldn’t let them threaten his friends either.

As Will’s feet hit the ground, the walker turned to him with a growl. He reversed his grip on his rifle and slammed the butt into its jaw. The walker fell and reached up for him, but he slammed the rifle down again, coating the end with dark blood. The soft bone of its skull cracked, and the walker finally fell still.

Gathering his courage, Bilbo stepped out from the trees and aimed his rifle at Will. “Drop the gun,” he hissed.

Will started and partially raised his rifle, then realized he would not be able to fire it in time and let it fall to the ground.

So far his bluff had worked. Bilbo tried to stop his hands from shaking and took another step forward. “Now, kick it over this way.”

He did as he was told, then narrowed his eyes. “Hang on, aren’t you—”

“Not a word, or I  _ will _ shoot. I-I mean it.”

“Oi, Will?” the other man called. “Everything all right?”

Will stammered silently for a moment, as though he was unsure if Bilbo would fire at him if he decided to respond.

“Tell him everything’s fine,” Bilbo whispered. His palms were sweating. “Tell him you have to take care of more of the, uh, biters.”

“Everything’s fine,” he said. “I have to take care of more of the biters.”

There was no response for a moment, and Bilbo began to fear Will’s answer hadn’t been convincing enough.

“All right, then,” came the reply, and his shoulders sagged in relief. “Don’t take too long, eh? This lot’s almost finished packing up the supplies.”

Of course they would try and steal from them. Bilbo scowled and reaffirmed his grip on his rifle. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with Will now, as he couldn’t exactly hold him at gunpoint while he dealt with the other two.

The brush rustled behind him, and he glanced back. Kíli was crouching partially behind a bush, face pale, and he emphatically pointed to his right, where another walker was stumbling towards him.

Shoes scraped along the pavement, and Bilbo turned back to see Will lunge for the rifle on the ground. He gasped, panic seizing his limbs for a moment, then stepped forward and cracked the butt of his rifle down upon his head. The impact was enough to break the skin, leaving a small gash on the back of his bald head, and he fell facedown. Bilbo stared at him, trembling, and relaxed slightly as he registered the faint rise and fall of his breath.

A low growl caught his attention, and he remembered that he was not entirely in the clear. He raised his rifle as the walker approached and swung the end at its head, trying his best to copy what he’d seen Will do. The walker staggered but didn’t fall, and Bilbo tried again with gritted teeth. When it finally collapsed, he hit it again, wincing as blood welled up from the wound. The walker lay still.

Kíli came out from his hiding spot, eyes wide as he gazed at the downed man. “Did you kill him?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Bilbo shook himself. Killing walkers was one thing, but hurting another living person was entirely different. Even though Will had been the one trying to attack him, striking him down like that had felt  _ awful _ .

He couldn’t allow himself to fully ponder that just yet—he still had to rescue the rest of their group. Motioning for Kíli to stay close, he crept closer to the RV and peered into the gap between the vehicle and one of the dumpsters.

Nori, Thorin, and Bombur were busy loading all of their supplies into Dwalin’s truck, while the rest of the group stood in a tense knot off to one side. Nearby, another one of the men was standing with his thick arms crossed, watching their progress.

Bilbo frowned. The man had a gun in one hand, but it was held loosely. Any two of their group could have easily overpowered him. And where was the third one?

Occasionally, one of the group would glance upwards, and he followed their gaze to the roof of one of the buildings. It was mostly obscured by a few overhanging tree branches (this, he supposed, was why Will had been on lookout at this end) but he could guess this was where the third man was standing. From there, he would have a decent view of the whole street, and with just one rifle would be able to keep the group in check if any of them decided to act out.

Kíli had crouched down to get a better look, and let out a small gasp as he spotted his family. Bilbo put a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to be quiet.

“Look,” he whispered. “There’s a man on the roof that’s threatening everyone. I’m going to try and stop him, and then we’ll be able to get to your family, all right?”

They crept past the dumpster and around the building, which was probably a storefront with some apartments on the upper floors. Bilbo reached the back door and tried it, then cursed under his breath as he realized it was locked.

Going around front was too risky, as they risked being spotted. The only other point of entry was a small open window about six feet off the ground, and Bilbo knew that even if he managed to get up there, he would not be able to fit through.

He turned to Kíli. As much as he hated putting him in any sort of risky situation, they needed to act quickly before their supplies were stolen. At the very least, he could trust that their group had cleared out any walkers that would be in the building.

“If I get you through that window, do you think you could go round and unlock this door for me?”

Kíli glanced at the window, then back at him with a small frown.

“I’m not going to force you.” He took a deep breath, trying not to let the urgency show on his face. “But it would help me a great deal, and we don’t have much time—”

“Okay.” He straightened and walked towards the window. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo crouched down and lifted him up with a grunt. Kíli was lighter than he’d been expecting, though it took a few moments of wobbling and clambering before he was able to get a grip on the windowsill. Bilbo supported his legs until he was able to get his balance and climb through.

He braced himself, expecting a crash or commotion on the other side, but apparently Kíli had managed to stay silent, and a moment later the door opened.

“Good job.” Bilbo squeezed his shoulder as he stepped inside. Kíli smiled, some of the tension in his shoulders lessening.

The door led to the back of what appeared to be a restaurant. The kitchen was visible from where they stood, and he set off in search of the stairs that would lead to the upper floors.

“Oi, Will! We’re ready to go!” the man shouted from outside. “Where are you?”

Bilbo tensed. They didn’t have much time. He hurried up the stairs, Kíli right on his heels, and swung the rifle from his shoulder. When they reached the flight leading to the roof, he stopped and turned to him.

“Wait here, all right?”

“What if—” He took a hesitant step up the stairs. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, though he couldn’t ignore the pounding of his heart. “I’ll come back down when it’s safe.”

He turned and sprinted up the last flight. The metal door leading to the roof creaked as he opened it, and it was all he could do to hold up his rifle as the man spun around.

“What the hell?”

He took a couple of steps closer. “D-Drop your weapon.”

“Bert?” came the call from below. “Everything all right?”

“You’re outnumbered.” Breathing hard, Bilbo continued his advance. “I...I’ve already taken care of your friend. Just drop the gun, and I won’t hurt you.”

His rifle was pointed at the ground, but still held in both hands. Bert glanced backwards, as though considering calling out for help, but evidently there was no point. He dropped the gun, the clatter of it against the ground making Bilbo flinch slightly.

“Right.” Once again, he wasn’t quite sure where to go from here. He stepped closer, looking him up and down. He was fairly sure there was something else he was supposed to do, like they did in the detective shows he used to watch, but his mind was blank as adrenaline continued to surge through his veins.

A gunshot cracked open the tense silence, and Bilbo jumped. The rifle in his hands hadn’t gone off, so he could only conclude that something had happened below. He glanced towards the edge of the roof, and in that split second Bert lunged for him.

Bilbo raised the gun, finger fumbling for the trigger, but the man was deceptively fast for his size, seizing the rifle and trying to wrest it from his grip. He let out a grunt and held on for dear life, knowing if he let go he would die.

Bert was much stronger than him, and thrust the barrel forward to try and aim it at his head. Bilbo leaned away, his muscles straining painfully as he tried to hold on. Bert jerked the rifle again with enough force to throw him off balance.

He slammed into the concrete, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs, and Bert followed him down, pressing the rifle into his throat. Bilbo choked and gasped for air, but the pressure on his windpipe prevented anything from getting through. He gripped the rifle and tried to push upwards, but from this angle he couldn’t manage to lift it even an inch.

Bert’s eyes were dark, his jaw thrust forward in determination as he continued to push downwards. Dark spots were beginning to crackle in his vision. He tried to call out for help, hoping someone below would hear him, but nothing came out. The pressure on his throat had grown painful, a burning sensation enveloping the area even as his struggles grew weaker.

Blackness swallowed up his vision, the ringing in his ears beginning to fade, and he thought, very faintly, that he could hear another gunshot.

He had no idea if it was a second or an hour later, but the pressure on his throat was lifted, and a gust of blessed air filled his aching windpipe. It hurt just as much coming out, but he could only wheeze and draw in another breath.

The rifle was taken from his neck, and a pair of strong, steady hands lifted him to his feet.

“Are you all right?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo swayed on his feet, and was certain he would have fallen over if Thorin hadn’t still been gripping his shoulders. His vision began to clear, and he looked up to see a pair of bright blue eyes, wide with concern, staring down at him.

“How…” He winced. It hurt more to speak than it did to breathe. He turned around and froze.

Bert was spread-eagled on his back only a couple feet away, the flesh on the side of his head torn by a bullet. His eyes were blank, his expression one of mild shock. 

Horror crawled across his skin, and he took an unsteady step back, letting out a wheezing cough.

“Hey, stay with me, all right?” Thorin still had a hand on his back, as though afraid he was going to tip over again.

Bilbo took another breath as ringing filled his ears again. “I think I need to…”

And tip over he did.

* * *

 

Thorin cursed, bending over to catch Bilbo as he fell. He had gone completely limp, head lolling to the side as Thorin shifted his grip and scooped him up. He seemed to be breathing normally, which was his main concern, but he’d let Óin do the actual examining. 

He carried him across the roof, back towards the door. A dark purple bruise was already beginning to spread across Bilbo’s throat, and Thorin cursed under his breath. He’d almost been too late.

As soon as the first lookout had disappeared behind the RV, the group had been on high alert, knowing that a narrow chance for escape might be approaching. When the man on the roof had become distracted, Glóin had shot the third in the head—a rash move in his opinion, but one that had worked in their favor.

Thorin nudged open the roof door with one foot. Kíli was standing at the foot of the stairwell, wide eyes gleaming in the light shining through. It had been a hard shock finding his nephew alive and well, but his main priority had been getting to the roof and taking out their final assailant.

Now, as he descended, he smiled at Kíli and started to ask if he was all right, but the boy’s attention was focused on the man in his arms.

“Is Bilbo okay?” He moved up a few steps, then backtracked to make room for Thorin. “What happened?”

“He’ll be fine,” he replied, shifting his grip with a slight grimace. Bilbo was one of the smaller members of their group, but by no means light. “Let’s get downstairs, all right?”

“Okay!” Kíli sprinted ahead, nearly tumbling down the next flight of stairs in his haste, and by the time Thorin reached the ground floor, he was already wrapped up in the embrace of his brother and parents.

“I heard the gunshot,” Nori said, approaching him. “You got the guy on the roof?”

Thorin nodded and set Bilbo down on the sidewalk, careful not to knock his head against the ground. “Óin! I need you.”

Their resident doctor made his way over to them and knelt down next to Bilbo. “Tell  me what happened.”

“He was on the roof with the other guy, getting strangled by his rifle. I shot him, and he passed out when he saw the body.” Thorin shook his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to be entirely exasperated with Bilbo.

“Where the hell are his shoes?” Nori asked.

Bilbo was indeed not wearing any shoes. His socks were almost worn through at the soles.

Óin stood up, apparently done with his inspection. “As long as he wakes up soon, he should be fine. Probably with one hell of a sore throat, though.”

Nori crossed his arms. “I have so many questions.”

“I’m sure we all do.” Thorin stood up as well and looked over to the rest of his family. Kíli was gesticulating wildly, or as wildly as he could with Fíli’s arm slung over his shoulders, as he recounted the events of the past couple of days.

“And then he lifted me up, and I went through the window like a spy, and then we were—”

“Come on,” he called to the rest of the group. He bent down to pick up Bilbo again. “Let’s get out of here. I’m done with this place.”

* * *

 

_ His throat hurt something awful. He let out a low groan, reaching up to rub his neck, but something was pinning him in place. _

_ The low growl of a walker sounded just above him, and he tensed, blinking frantically against the blurry dark. He tried to quiet his breaths as they came in short, panicked gasps. Perhaps if he stayed still and quiet, it would pass over him. _

_ Cool, putrid breath washed over his face, and he still couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream as grimy teeth clamped around his throat— _

Bilbo gasped, eyes flying open, and blinked in terror even as his body remained caught in the stillness of sleep. As soon as he could move, he sat up, taking in the confined, rocking space around him.

“Hey, he’s awake.” Fíli’s familiar voice was enough to orient him, and he took a shuddering breath. He was on the couch in the RV. He turned to see Fíli, Kíli, and their parents sitting at the table on the other side of the vehicle, looking at him with varying degrees of concern and affection.

He slid his feet onto the floor and leaned back. It hurt to breathe, and slightly more so to swallow, but as he felt along his neck, he could feel no bite marks.

His pain was forgotten, however, as Fíli stood up and crossed the small space to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “Thank you for saving Kíli.”

Bilbo returned the embrace, a smile spreading on his lips. Over Fíli’s shoulder, he could see Dís and Víli looking at him with such warmth that he could feel his cheeks redden.

When Fíli pulled back, he said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“And me!” Kíli leapt up from his seat and planted himself next to Fíli. “You were asleep forever.”

“Kíli,” his father scolded, though there was no real heat behind it. “Bilbo was injured. There’s nothing wrong with him resting.”

“How long was I out?” Bilbo asked, then cleared his throat. Through the opposite window, he could see trees whipping by, outlined in red and orange by the setting sun.

“Only a few hours,” Víli said. “We’re heading to the coast, now. Shouldn’t be more than a day.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for what you did,” Dís said, motioning for the boys to sit down. “Really, without you—”

“Please.” Bilbo shook his head, feeling heat gather on his cheeks. “It was no trouble. Well, no more than we were already in.”

“How did you get out of the motel?” Víli asked. 

So Bilbo recounted what had happened after the walker had fallen on top of him during their initial escape. Kíli chimed in occasionally to mention the lack of bubbles in the soda or reiterate his heroic climbing through the window.

“You’re like a spy,” Fíli said once he’d finished.

Bilbo shook his head again. None of it had felt particularly cinematic at the time, and his feet were still sore. 

The image of Bert’s body, lying in a pool of blood spreading from his mangled head, flashed in his vision. He wondered suddenly what had happened to Will after he had left him unconscious in the middle of the street. Had the group just left him there to wake up and find his friends dead? Or what if another walker had come across his prone body and…

A sudden wave of chills crawled up his arm, and the warm interior of the RV began to feel a bit cramped.

“Excuse me.” He stood up, putting one hand on the wall to steady himself, and made for the front of the vehicle. He needed some space.

The passenger seat was empty, and he made a beeline for that. He paused momentarily, seeing Thorin in the driver’s seat, but he probably wouldn’t speak to him at all, and that would give him some time to think.

Thorin spared him a split-second glance as he sat down, but said nothing. Bilbo leaned against the side window, relishing in the cool sensation of the glass against his temple.

The image wouldn’t leave his mind. Bert had been trying to kill him, and he had every right to be glad that he was dead, but there was something about it that felt just  _ wrong _ . Killing walkers was one thing—it was essentially killing what was already dead—but to do it to another person…

Bilbo sighed, one hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. He hadn’t even been the one to pull the trigger, yet he felt as though he’d played some part in Bert’s death.

He glanced at Thorin, wondering if that had been the first person he’d killed. He seemed calm and collected as ever, and from what he could remember from the rooftop before he’d passed out, he hadn’t seemed shaken up in the slightest. Though he didn’t seem like the type to agonize over his decisions anyway.

At any rate, Thorin’s actions had saved his life.

“I suppose I should thank you,” he said, then cleared his throat again with a wince. He’d have to ask Óin how long the effects of getting strangled were supposed to last. “That man probably would have killed me if you hadn’t gotten there in time.”

Thorin let out a low humming noise, and Bilbo could have sworn he could feel his deep voice vibrating through the air between them. “Stroke of luck. I would have thought that first lookout would have taken you out.”

Bilbo let out a short huff and turned away. He’d only been trying to give a simple thank you, and Thorin had gone straight to insulting him. “Well, I would have thought that you’d have been able to handle three against fifteen.”

The glance he received was sharp and reprimanding, but there was a hint of grudging respect in his voice as he said, “Well, we all owe you one.” He was silent for a moment before adding, “And I’m sorry for leaving you behind at the motel.”

He shrugged. Even after weeks of living with the group, it was still difficult to get a read on him. One minute he seemed to think Bilbo couldn’t so much as chop his own vegetables, but in the next he seemed to truly respect him. “If you hadn’t left me, then there wouldn’t have been anyone to take care of Kíli, so...no harm done.” A few seconds of silence ticked by, then he asked, “Are we even now?”

“Even?”

“Well, you were angry with me about…” He paused, remembering that the RV was a rather small space and Dís and Víli could likely hear everything he was saying. “The thing we talked about that first day.”

Thorin didn’t respond immediately, and Bilbo was prepared to take that as a no. He let out a small sigh and clasped his hands together. If Thorin didn’t like him, then there was nothing to be done for it, but he couldn’t help but wish there was a little more warmth between them.

“It was never about being even,” Thorin finally said, and that was the end of the conversation.

Bilbo didn’t really know what to make of his words until a few days later. Their trip to the coast had been delayed, since it seemed everyone else had had the same idea, and most of the roads were blocked or overrun with walkers.

They’d backtracked into a wooded area and made camp in an abandoned neighborhood. Bilbo was helping Bombur put up the awning to the RV when he heard Thorin call his name.

He was standing by his car, and when Bilbo approached, climbed in without a word. Bilbo took the passenger seat, noting the pair of rifles tucked against the driver’s side door.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far.” Thorin started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and supposed he should have asked a more specific question. He glanced at the rifles again. Perhaps Thorin was taking him hunting. They’d been rather pressed for food since they’d been on the road, especially as supplies got more scarce the closer they got to the coast. Bifur and Glóin had come back with a whole deer the other day, and though it had been rather gruesome to see them prepare it, they’d all been glad for some fresh meat.

They pulled to a stop next to an abandoned liquor store, and Bilbo’s confusion grew. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much as a glass of wine, and something told him this had been one of the first places to be raided once the world had ended. 

He didn’t think Thorin would want anyone to be under the influence while they were on the road, strict as he had been about their security measures after the incident with the three men. But a small part of him wondered what Thorin would be like after a few beers. Perhaps he’d be more relaxed, more prone to smile and laughter, and the lines of stress would ease on his handsome face.

Bilbo was shaken out of his little fantasy as Thorin parked the car and picked up the rifles. “I thought you could use some practice with shooting one of these.”

“Oh.” He straightened, and followed suit as Thorin stepped out of the car. He supposed that was why they were a few miles away from the rest of the group—if the gunshots attracted any walkers, then their camp wouldn’t be in danger.

“Kíli tells me you’re decent with a handgun,” he continued, heading for the store.

“Well, I think he might be exaggerating,” Bilbo said with an awkward laugh. “But I wouldn’t mind the practice.”

The glass door swung open easily, and it was just as Bilbo suspected—the shelves had all been cleared out, and the floor was a mess of broken and empty bottles. Thorin picked one up, and Bilbo realized he probably meant to use them as targets and went to help him collect a few.

Once they’d gathered eight empty bottles, Thorin set them up on the series of poles between the sidewalk and the parking lot. He motioned for Bilbo to stand at one end and handed him a rifle.

“Have you fired one of these before?”

“Well, no.” Bilbo shifted his weight and swallowed. His throat was still sore. “Mostly just threatened to.”

“Hold it higher.” Thorin adjusted his grip, his fingers brushing the underside of his arm and leaving strange tingles behind.

Bilbo took a deep breath and aimed at the nearest bottle. He pulled the trigger and winced as the rifle jerked back against his shoulder. Where the bullet had gone, he had no idea, but it hadn’t hit any of the bottles.

“You have to lean into it,” Thorin said, briefly placing a hand on his shoulder, and Bilbo tried not to fixate on the touch too much. “Pull that lever up and back.”

He followed his instructions, causing the empty casing to pop out and fall to the ground, then pushed the lever back into place. “Isn’t this kind of a waste of bullets?”

“If it saves your life later on, then it’s worth the ammo.” Thorin motioned for him to fire again.

Bilbo braced himself for the kickback and squeezed the trigger. One of the bottles shattered—though it hadn’t been the one he was aiming for—and he grinned. It took him only a few minutes to break the rest of the bottles, with Thorin stopping halfway through to show him how to reload. His shoulder was sore by the end of it, but he felt a sense of accomplishment nonetheless.

“I suppose it’ll probably be harder to shoot a moving target,” he said as they began walking back to the car.

“There’s your chance.” Thorin gestured across the street, where a walker was limping towards them.

Bilbo raised his rifle and hesitated. The walker was a good fifty feet away, farther than any of the bottles had been. But at Thorin’s prompting gesture, he took aim and fired.

His first shot missed, and he fumbled with the lever to reload, feeling his cheeks heat up at Thorin’s expectant gaze. He took a deep breath and aimed again. It was only one walker, and even if it had been fifty, he couldn’t let himself freeze up like this. He fired again, and blood spurted from the side of the walker’s head. It spun to the side and fell.

Bilbo lowered his rifle with a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived as the walker stirred and made to stand up.

“I think you just got its ear,” Thorin said. He raised his own rifle and fired, and the walker’s brains spilled onto the asphalt like wine from a broken bottle.

He cleared his throat, torn between feeling defensive and envious, both of which were rather unjustified.

But his spirits lifted as Thorin took his rifle and said, “Kíli might not have been exaggerating after all.”

And Bilbo allowed himself a small smile as they both climbed back into the car.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're in the mood for more Bilbo/Thorin sexually charged weapons training, feel free to check out my oneshot Archery Lessons!
> 
> And would it really be a zombie story if I didn't have the protagonist boost their smaller companion to a hard-to-reach space? ;)
> 
> (Also, a lot of people fixated on the shoes, damn. Sorry that wasn't more of a plot point.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 

Thorin shot another glare at the fuel gauge, then jabbed the heel of his hand into the car horn a few times, making Ori jump in the passenger seat. In front of him, Dwalin’s truck and the RV pulled to a stop, and Bilbo’s car slowed behind him.

Bombur stuck his head out the RV door. “Something wrong?” 

He shoved the door open and climbed out. “Almost out of gas.”

“We could squeeze you guys into the RV. It’d be a tight fit, but we could make it work.”

Thorin shook his head and leaned against the hood of his car. More doors began to open as everyone climbed out. “We need to turn back. We’ve been tracing the coast for days, and we’ve barely found any food or gas.”

Nori stepped out of the RV. “What makes you think we’ll have better luck inland?”

It was a chilling thought, that food might have just run out that quickly. In a world with walking corpses and violent looters, it was strange to think starvation would be the thing to take them in the end.

“I don’t know for sure what we’ll find elsewhere.” He crossed his arms. “But we’ve had shit luck on the coast so far.”

“We might just not be looking in the right places.” Nori shrugged.

“And what does that mean?” Thorin straightened and walked towards him. “What places should we be looking instead?”

“How should I know?” he replied, his casual tone only hiking Thorin’s temper. “I don’t really understand why I’m the only one coming up with ideas around here.”

Thorin’s hands curled into fists, but Balin intervened before the tension between them could ignite. “Now, we’re all hungry and tired. Arguing amongst each other won’t do any good. Bilbo?”

His head poked out the door of the RV. “Yes?”

“You still have that map with you?”

“Oh! Yes, one moment.” Bilbo disappeared back inside the vehicle.

Nori let out a low whistle and gestured to the trees on the side of the road. Through the shaded area, about a dozen walkers were staggering towards them.

“Shit.” Thorin gestured for everyone to get back in their cars. Over the past few weeks, they’d been dodging increasing numbers of walker mobs—another reason why he considered the coast too dangerous. He didn’t even want to think what would happen if the herds all converged into a larger one.

They drove for another hour, until the RV honked for them to stop. Thorin watched as Bilbo climbed out and jogged over to his car.

“I, um, had an idea for food,” he said after Thorin rolled down his window.

“What?”

Bilbo wrestled with his map for a moment as it flapped in the wind, then finally managed to maneuver it so he could point to a location at the edge. “There’s an orchard not too far from here. I’ve been there before, for a—well, it doesn’t matter. I figured we might have better luck there, since the fruit wouldn’t have been ripe when most of the looting was happening.”

An orchard was an option, one he hadn’t really considered since they weren’t in a rural area. “Go up to Dwalin’s car. We’ll follow your lead.”

Bilbo nodded, eyes bright, and hurried towards the front.

“Sound like a smart move,” Ori said once their caravan started moving again.

Thorin grunted in agreement, his thoughts lingering on Bilbo’s energetic pace. He continued to surprise him with his resourcefulness and his courage, and at the end of the day, he was glad to have him in their group.

A half hour later, they reached a faded wooden sign pointing to Buckland Orchards. A narrow gravel road led to a wooden building, and just beyond were several rows of fruit trees extending about half a mile back.

The chirping of birds was interrupted as a chorus of opening doors sounded, followed by the crunch of feet on gravel. Thorin stepped out and took out his gun. 

“Everyone, stay inside the car. Nori, Dwalin, Bifur, Dori, you’re with me. We’ll spread out, search the place. Dís, I want you to take my car and drive around the area. Keep your eyes peeled for walkers.”

She frowned. “Can’t we just set up a watch?”

He shook his head. “This place is too big. And I don’t want to get surprised.” He gestured to the group he’d selected. “Let’s move.”

They checked the building first, which consisted of a small shop area in front and a storage room behind. Both were empty of food and walkers.

Outside, Thorin directed Nori and to sweep the perimeter with him, while Dwalin, Bifur, and Dori combed the inside of the orchard. He moved quickly around the edge, keeping his eyes peeled even as the sun dipped towards the horizon.

A movement in the trees around the property caught his eye, and he stiffened again. A walker was moving through the brush, its clumsy footsteps rustling the undergrowth. Thorin moved closer, scanning the forest, but this one appeared to be isolated. He tucked away his gun, trading it for the knife on his belt, and jabbed the blade through the walker’s eye. It fell to the ground and lay still, and he continued on.

Nori met him halfway around the border and nodded to him, lowering his gun slightly. “Anything?”

“Just a lone walker. You?”

“Nothing.” He turned and nodded at the rest of their small group as they appeared through the trees. “The place looks clear.”

They returned to the cars without incident, where Dís was waiting to announce that the area around the orchard was clear. Everyone relaxed at that and got out of the cars, chattering amongst themselves.

Thorin wasn’t ready to let down his guard just yet, but the optimism in the group was infectious. He put his gun away and gestured to Bilbo with a slight smile. “Why don’t you show us around?”

* * *

 

Bilbo couldn’t stop grinning. It was the most relaxed he’d seen the group in weeks. Everyone had some type of fruit in hand, grinning and chatting amongst one another. Glóin was lounging in the branches of one of the sturdier trees, talking with Brana, while Víli hoisted Kíli up on his shoulders to reach a particularly high-up apple.

The orchard had been filled with mostly apples and peaches, which wasn’t much variety-wise, but it was the first time in months that they were able to eat their fill.

Warmth glowed in the chest as he remembered the way Thorin had regarded him as they’d begun exploring the orchard. Even on his stern face, he could easily recognize his approval, and he’d had to look away to hide his blush.

He tried to steer his thoughts away from Thorin, who was talking with Nori at the edge of camp, and took another bite of the peach in his hand. Sticky juice had already dripped all over his palm, but it didn’t bother him as much as it would have. Being on the road had forced him to get used to the grimy existence that was post-apocalyptic survival.

Even so, he made an effort to wipe his mouth as Óin joined him under the tree where he was sitting. The group had taken half a dozen electric lanterns and placed them around their camp, both to provide light and serve as an informal boundary. Thorin had still insisted they put at least three people on watch, and that everyone else stay within the limits of their camp.

Óin lowered himself onto the grass with a grunt. “How’s your throat feeling?”

“Much better, thank you.” One hand almost unconsciously went to touch his neck, where the bruise had only faded a few days ago.

“No long-term effects?”

“None that I’m aware of.” Bilbo frowned. “I feel fine, really.”

“Any trouble sleeping? Anxiety?”

“Oh.” He lowered his hand and looked away. Óin wasn’t talking about the physical aspects at all. He’d tried to ignore the...other results of what had happened on that rooftop. The memory of Bert’s bleeding body and the pain and terror of feeling that rifle press down on his neck were both just as horrible revisiting them the twentieth time as they had been the first.

“Suppressing your trauma won’t make it go away,” Óin said, bringing him back to the present.

“I-If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of doctor are you?”

“Just a GP. But I took some psychology classes in college...all those centuries ago,” he added, making Bilbo chuckle. “I’m not qualified to diagnose you with anything, but just know we’re all here if you need to talk.”

“Thank you.” He forced a smile. Perhaps he would, one day. But everyone already had their own worries, and this was the first time they’d been able to relax in a while. He didn’t want to ruin it.

Over by the tree next to theirs, Bofur cursed as the plastic shopping bag in his hand broke, spilling peaches onto the grass. “Do we have any better containers for collecting these?”

Bifur went to help his cousin pick up the fallen fruit. “Thought I saw a few boxes up in the building.”

“I can go get some.” Bilbo stood up, eager for an excuse to escape before Óin continued interrogating him about his mental health.

He was halfway across camp when Brana appeared at his shoulder. “I’ll come help you.” She patted the gun at her hip. “Buddy system, right?”

Bilbo nodded, then waved to Dwalin, who was standing guard at the edge of camp. “We won’t be gone for long.”

He grunted. “Shout if you need anything.”

They left the light of their camp and entered the cool shadows of the orchard. The air was filled with the chirping of insects, and Bilbo smiled as he caught sight of a few fireflies hovering above the grass. Fall was near, and this would probably be one of the last nights they were out.

“This wasn’t a bad idea, coming here,” Brana said as they neared the building. “Maybe we should stick to farms and orchards until this whole thing is over.”

Bilbo hummed in agreement, then paused. “Do you...think this is going to be over?”

“Someday.” She turned to him, her expression serious. “This isn’t the first plague humanity has suffered. Things may have gone to shit now, but people always learn to rebuild.”

“I hope you’re right,” Bilbo said, though a furrow appeared between his brows. Even if they could go back, find a cure for the whole undead thing and get humanity resettled, would the people who had lived through such horrors be able to go back to what the world had been before?

He sighed and opened the door to the building, releasing a musty odor into the quiet night. The back room was completely dark except for the moonlight coming through the door, and he wished he’d brought a flashlight as he fumbled around, searching for the boxes Bofur had talked about.

“I think five or six should be enough,” he said, examining a vague wooden shape with his hands. “Since we don’t have a fridge, the fruit will go bad after a while. And that’s assuming we don’t all get sick of it first.” He turned around to find the room was empty. “Brana?”

A low retching noise reached his ears, and he hurried back out the door and peered around the corner. Brana was bent almost double with one hand braced against the wall, and he winced at the sound of bile splattering against the grass.

“Oh my god.” Bilbo hurried over to pull her hair back and put his other hand on her shoulder as she took a deep, gasping breath. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and dragged a hand over her mouth with a wince.

“Are you feeling sick?” He put a hand against her forehead, but couldn’t feel any fever. “I’ll go get Óin.”

“No.” Brana straightened and leaned her back against the wall. There was a slight grayish tinge to her face, and Bilbo feared she was going to fall over. “No, it’s okay.”

“It doesn’t look okay.” He frowned. “What’s going on?”

She shook her head, glancing to the side. “It’s just a small stomach bug, or something. I’ll be fine.”

“Shouldn’t Óin know about that?”

She pressed her lips together. “Okay, look. I... I’ve missed my last couple of periods.”

“Oh.” The back of his neck heated as he wondered why she was telling him this, then his eyes widened. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Seriously, it might be nothing. It’s happened before when I was stressed out or wasn’t eating enough, but…” Brana shrugged and looked away again.

“D-Does Glóin know about this? Or anyone else?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure you’ve seen it already, but they’re a pretty overprotective family. I don’t want anyone freaking out until I know for sure.” She looked back at him. “Look, next time you’re on a supply run, if you could find a pregnancy test or something…”

“Of course. I’ll see what I can do.” He cleared his throat. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you...I mean...”

“Sperm donor,” Brana said with a wry smile. “Before all this happened. We’ve been trying for a couple years now, but no luck, and after the world ended it sort of slipped my mind.”

“Right.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight. “Well, I suppose I can keep this a secret, until…”

“Thank you.” She reached out to squeeze his arm. “With any luck, it’s nothing, but I just want to be sure, you know?”

“Right,” he said again. “Well, we should probably head back to camp before Thorin sends out a search party.”

“Let’s get the boxes first.”

“Oh, yeah.” Shaking himself, Bilbo hurried back into the building to gather them up.

* * *

 

Bilbo tilted his head back and breathed in the clear mountain air. They were stopped outside a small town at the base of a valley, which was cradled to the north and south by lush green mountains.

Their journey west had taken them near the Misty Mountains, and he had been enchanted by their hulking shapes. This was the farthest east he’d ever been, and he couldn’t deny the sense of adventure he’d felt seeing mountains for the first time.

Their luck with scavenging had gotten slightly better as they’d moved farther from the coast, though they still had to tighten their belts every few weeks. Bilbo had tried, discreetly as he could, to make sure Brana got a little extra food. She hadn’t started showing yet, though he didn’t really know when that was supposed to happen—nor had he had the chance to find a pregnancy test, so neither of them knew if they had a reason to worry at all.

The thought had continued to weigh on him, so when Thorin announced that he was going to look for supplies, Bilbo volunteered to go with him.

“Have you ever been in this area before?” he asked as they drove, smiling up at the massive shape of one of the mountains, the peak of which was just barely visible in the scope of the window.

“Once or twice,” Thorin replied, terse as usual, though his tone betrayed no impatience.

“You know, I’ve stayed on this side of the Misty Mountains my whole life. I used to think about traveling, seeing the world, but I never made any real plans for it.” He smiled wryly. “I never thought the opportunity would come after the world had ended.”

Thorin glanced at him. “What did you do, before all this?”

“For a living? I was a librarian.” He gave an almost defensive shrug. It wasn’t exactly a thrilling job—not the sort of thing he brought up at parties. “I was also writing a book of my own, but I never ended up finishing it.”

“Fíli was telling me something about a story of yours.” He sounded as if he wanted to ask more, but didn’t say anything else.

After a moment, Bilbo asked, “What did you do? Before?”

“I was in the military for a while. After that, I worked as an administrator at city hall.”

“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows at that. Military service certainly explained why Thorin was so… Well, it explained why he’d kept his cool after shooting a man in the head.

A soldier and a librarian. Bilbo smiled to himself. They certainly did make an odd couple. Not that they were an actual  _ couple _ , but he didn’t think he would have been friendly with someone like Thorin if fate hadn’t thrown them together in the middle of an apocalypse.

He spotted a drug store coming up on their right, and pointed it out to Thorin. “Let’s stop there, see what we can find.”

Thorin glanced at him as he slowed the car and pulled into the parking lot. “Did Óin ask you for supplies?”

“Uh, no.” He tried to keep his tone casual. “I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to look around. Never know what kind of medicine we might need.”

That seemed to be good enough for him. Thorin parked the car and they climbed out. As they walked into the store, Bilbo put a hand on the knife on his belt. The two of them had guns as well, but Thorin had told the group not to use them for killing walkers until they found some silencers—barring emergencies, of course.

Bilbo took the left side of the store while Thorin took the right, scanning the aisles as he went. The interior of the store was dim, and the light shining through the front door cast long shadows over the linoleum floor.

He turned the corner and tensed with a gasp as he came across a walker. It turned to him with a low growl, its movements still sluggish from sleep, or whatever walkers did when they stood still. Bilbo drew his knife and reached up, jabbing the blade into its eye. The walker fell before it could do anything, and he winced as it collided with a shelf, making a loud rattling noise.

Thorin appeared at the other end of the aisle, one hand on his gun, and his gaze dropped to the bleeding body on the floor.

“Sorry,” Bilbo whispered.

They cleared the rest of the store without incident. Bilbo found a box of tissues to clean his knife, then began looking for the pregnancy section.

Most of the shelves were a mess, none of them more than a third full, and even then it was mostly empty boxes. The section for pregnancy and maternal health was in a disarray, scattered with all sorts of boxes and bottles.

Bilbo sent a nervous glance towards the back of the store. Thorin had gone to check the prescription medications, and hopefully he could wrap this up before he came back.

As quietly as he could, he began digging through the mess of vitamins, supplements, stretch mark cream, and even a couple boxes advertising a paternity test. He found a box that looked rather like a pregnancy test, but it was for something called a fertility monitor. That didn’t sound right, so he put it back and kept looking.

Finally, he managed to find a box clearly labeled as a pregnancy test. The device on the package didn’t look as much like a thermometer as he’d seen on television, but he wasn’t about to get picky. He shoved it into his backpack and dug through the other boxes, wondering if there was anything else he could get Brana if she really was pregnant. Maybe some vitamins…?

“Find anything?”

Bilbo started at the sound of Thorin’s voice, heart jumping to a gallop as he fumbled with the items in front of him. “U-Um, not much. I was just looking at…” He grabbed one at random and stood up.

Thorin looked down at the box in his hands, arms crossed. “Condoms.” He looked back up at Bilbo, thoroughly unimpressed.

Heart sinking, he glanced down and saw that he was indeed holding a box of condoms. “Um…”

“It’s none of my business.” Thorin brushed past him and went to go check a different section of the store.

Bilbo could feel his face burning. At least he’d been able to keep Brana’s secret, but now Thorin would think…

Well, he probably wouldn’t think anything at all, since every time he seemed to give a damn about Bilbo he went right back to acting cold five minutes later.

With a huff, he made to tossed the box back on the shelf and went to see if there was anything  _ actually _ useful he could find.

* * *

 

The sky grew overcast as night began to fall, but everyone’s mood considerably brightened when Óin procured a bottle of wine. He’d found it a while back, apparently, and had been saving it for when they were in a relatively safe place. Bifur brought out a bag of plastic party cups, and Óin carefully portioned out the wine for the fifteen adults—though Brana declined, saying she didn’t feel like drinking, and was promptly put on watch.

Fíli and Kíli both complained about being left out at first, but were mollified when Bilbo passed them each a package of candy. At one point, Kíli did try to sneak a sip of Bifur’s wine, only for the man to catch him and begin chasing him around camp.

Thorin’s mood was slightly dampened, though. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened in the drug store earlier that day. Like he’d said, it was none of his business what Bilbo planned to do with a box of condoms, but it didn’t keep him from wondering  _ who _ he was planning on using it with.

It wasn’t as if he had any reason to be jealous, since he hadn’t given Bilbo any indication of his interest whatsoever. He couldn’t let himself be distracted, either—not with flesh-eating corpses about. They still hadn’t found a safe place, and the days were getting cooler. The winters on the other side of the mountain were harsh, and they couldn’t afford to be stuck out in the open when the season came.

So no, he couldn’t let himself get preoccupied with things unnecessary to their survival. Even if his eyes kept wandering over to where Bilbo was sitting by the fire, laughing and gesturing animatedly as he told a story to Víli and Bofur. He watched as Bofur slung an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, and the plastic cup in his fist crumpled.

Glóin, who was sitting next to him, jumped at the noise. “The hell is up with you?”

He wasn’t inclined to answer that, so Thorin grumbled an excuse and stood up. He made his way to the edge of their camp, slipping a half-full pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. D ís had married Víli while they were still in college, and he’d been happy enough to watch his nephews grow up, to spend time with the rest of his family. He’d never fallen in love or found someone to spend the rest of his life with, and the way things were going now, having a life at all wasn’t exactly guaranteed.

Thorin sighed and fiddled with the cigarette pack in his hand, the paper smeared with red from the wine that had spilled onto his hand. Alcohol on a mostly empty stomach was making him sentimental.

“Need a light?”

He turned turned, masking his jolt of surprise under a cool stare, and found Bilbo standing there, offering up a lighter.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” He accepted it and lit the end of his cigarette.

“I don’t, actually. I just found it a while back and thought it might be useful.” He took the lighter back and slipped it into his pocket.

Thorin took a drag and wondered why Bilbo had come over at all. Compared to some of the others, who would listen to his stories with smiles and wide eyes, he was poor company.

“Well, I did try marijuana when I was in college.” Bilbo grimaced. “It wasn’t a good experience. My friend put on a horror movie, and I was scared out of my wits.”

“What movie was it?”

“I don’t remember. I think it had something to do with vampires.”

A chuckle escaped him at that, and after a moment, Bilbo joined him.

“I wonder what the world would be like if it had been taken over by vampires instead of walkers.”

“We’d be looking for garlic instead of bullets,” Thorin said, and allowed himself a smile as Bilbo began to laugh.

The wine  _ was _ making him sentimental, but he didn’t mind this. Whatever Bilbo decided to do with his affections elsewhere, he wouldn’t mind being friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to include any exact plot points from TWD, but I couldn't help pulling the condoms scene from 2x05. Unfortunately didn't have the same end though.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 

Bilbo yawned again, blinking rapidly as he fought to keep the road in focus. The sun had set hours ago, turning the dark road into a blur of black shadows and hazy yellow headlights. They were driving on a narrow road on the side of the mountain, trying to find a sheltered place to stay, and so far they hadn’t had any luck.

Dís reached over from the passenger seat and pinched him hard on the arm, making him yelp.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked, massaging the sore spot.

She regarded him with raised eyebrows. “You were falling asleep.”

“Was not.” But he sat up a little straighter in his seat. Dís was usually good-tempered and kind, but when she got tired or stressed, he could definitely see the relation between her and her brother.

“Wuh?” Bofur sat up from where he’d been dozing in the backseat. “We there yet?”

“Not quite,” Bilbo said with a sigh, then realized Thorin’s car had pulled a good distance ahead of them. He pressed down on the gas, then frowned as nothing happened. He glanced down at the gauge—he still had a quarter of a tank left. “Oh, shit.”

“What is it?”

He jabbed at the pedal with his foot, but the car continued to slow down. Looking up, he realized Thorin’s car was about to turn the corner and drive out of sight, and pressed down on the horn.

“What happened?” Dís leaned over to look at the dash.

“I don’t know.” Bilbo braked the car, thankful that at least that was still working. He sighed as Thorin’s car turned around, its headlights flashing across the quiet valley. “I think my car just broke down.”

Fifteen minutes later, the rest of the group had joined them on the side of the road, and Víli and Óin were leaning over the open hood of his car, tinkering with the engine.

Bilbo leaned against the metal barrier on the side of the road and crossed his arms. His car was fairly old, but he hadn’t expected it to break down so suddenly.

Óin straightened and looked around at the group. “Well, at least it wasn’t the RV.”

“Can you fix it?” Bilbo took a step forward.

He shook his head. “Not without the proper tools.”

“We’ll still be able to squeeze everyone into the other vehicles,” Brana said. “It’ll be a tight fit, but…”

“Well, we should get moving soon.” Nori looked up at the dark clouds obscuring the moon. “I don’t like the thought of being stranded out here, especially at night.”

“Hey,” Fíli called, getting everyone’s attention. He pointed down the hillside. “There’s lights down there.”

Everyone crowded over to where he was standing, and sure enough, a cluster of lights was visible through the trees, at the bottom of the valley.

“Holy shit,” Bofur breathed.

Bilbo couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen electric lights besides the battery-powered lanterns they carried around. It had been disturbing to see the lights go out at the start of the outbreak, and it was equally disconcerting to see them reappear. They looked alien now, like a cluster of stars that had fallen to the center of the valley.

“They probably have a generator powering the buildings down there,” Bifur said.

“Well, maybe whoever is down there has the tools to fix Bilbo’s car,” Víli said.

Thorin shook his head. “We need to keep moving. Let’s not take our chances with whoever is down there.”

“Well, just because they’re strangers doesn’t mean they’re automatically bad,” Bilbo said. “When was the last time we ran into another group of survivors?”

He turned to him with a warning stare. “A few weeks ago, when they held us at gunpoint and almost strangled you to death.”

Well. That was a good point.

“Let’s move the supplies into my car and go.” Thorin motioned for them to get to work, and Bilbo begrudgingly went to open his trunk.

Balin gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm as he passed. “Sorry, lad.”

A few minutes later, he was sandwiched between Dís and Bofur in the back of Thorin’s car, and he resisted the urge to look back as they left his car on the side of the road.

He thought back to his tomato plants, and wondered how much of himself he was losing by leaving these little pieces behind.

They drove for a little longer, taking a right when the road forked in two. Bilbo glanced at the sign as they passed, and was able to make out the words  _ Rivendell Research Facility _ , with an arrow pointing to the left, towards the bottom of the valley.

“What do you suppose they’re researching down there?” he asked, to which most of the car responded with sleepy grunts. He glanced backwards, the collection of lights still glittering in his mind’s eye. “Must be important for them to be keeping the lights on.”

“If it is, then we’d only be getting in their way,” Thorin said, and that was the end of it.

Or, at least, it was until twenty minutes later.

Bilbo jerked out of his doze as the car pulled to a stop. He looked up to see the others in front of them had halted as well, and just beyond were the upturned roots of a fallen tree. He closed his eyes again, figuring the rest of the group could deal with it.

Through his hazy consciousness, he could hear the window roll down and Glóin say, “It’s no use. We don’t have the tools to cut it up, and there’s no way we’d be able to go around.”

Thorin cursed. “All right. Tell the others to turn around. We’ll take the other road at that fork and see if we can find another way through.”

“Got it.”

They began moving again. Since Bilbo’s map was not of a large area, they’d been flying blind for the past few weeks after moving out of its scope. It didn’t seem likely that they’d be able to find another road through this particular valley, but there was only one way to find out.

How long it took to get to the bottom of the valley, he wasn’t sure, but Bilbo drifted awake again as the car pulled to a stop. They’d reached a closed chain-link gate, decorated with a white metal sign that said, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Thorin let out another string of curses that made Dís kick the back of his seat. “We’re going to have to backtrack to that town from two days ago.” He put the car into reverse.

“Wait a second,” Bilbo said, straining his ears to catch the faint buzzing coming from the gate. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Bofur sat up and rolled down his window, making audible the grainy voice coming from somewhere on the gate.

“... _ repeat, state your name and purpose.” _

“What is this, Monty Python?” Bofur muttered. At Bilbo’s insistent nudging, he stepped out of the car, so that he could climb out as well.

“Um, excuse me?” He stepped forward, searching the silvery surface of the gate. Eventually he spotted a small black speaker near one corner, along with another device that might have been a camera. He directed his words towards the box. “My name is Bilbo Baggins. I-I’m travelling with a group here, and we’re trying to find a way through the valley.”

Thorin had stepped out of the car as well, and spun him around with a firm grip on his arm. “What the hell are you doing?”

Bilbo met his stare. “Thorin, we are lost. We’re running out of supplies, and my car just broke down. These people might be able to help us.”

Before he could respond, the speaker sounded again, “ _ How many people are in your group? _ ” He couldn’t tell if the voice was a man or woman’s, but they sounded rather stern.

“Seventeen,” he replied. “Including two children.”  _ Possibly three _ , he added silently.

“We could be walking right into a trap,” Thorin said lowly. Bilbo tried to ignore how close he was standing.

“ _ We’ll send someone to open the gate,”  _ the speaker said, then crackled into silence.

“Look, I don’t think—” Bilbo started, but Thorin had already stormed off towards the RV. “Thorin,” he tried, but received no response.

He turned back to the gate, a mixture of guilt and defensiveness blooming in his gut. Perhaps he’d acted rashly. But the whole group was exhausted. A safe place was just what they needed, and if it was a research facility, they might be able to finally get some answers about the outbreak.

And he didn’t want to live in a world where they weren’t able to trust other people. Despite what had happened with the three men, he still wanted to believe that there were others out there that were good.

Bilbo looked back at their beaten convoy and frowned. They couldn’t be the only ones left.

Despite their exhaustion, the group was on high alert by the time a small white car pulled up to the other side of the fence. They watched as as a man in a white lab coat that had clearly seen better days stepped out and walked over to the gate. He took a key from his pocket and undid the lock, then pulled open the gate and nodded for them to come through. He didn’t seem excited or nervous or afraid, which struck Bilbo as a little strange. But he did have on a lab coat, which leant a bit of credibility to the fact that he was some sort of researcher and not whatever brand of psychopath Thorin expected to find beyond the fence.

They followed the white car through the fence and down a long, winding road. The land on either side was mostly fields, though Bilbo caught sight of a few small buildings scattered throughout.

Eventually they reached a parking lot in front of a modern-looking building. The lights were on in a couple of windows, but Bilbo couldn’t see anything inside. The man stepped out of his car and stood with his hands behind his back, waiting for them to get out as well.

Thorin took the lead as they followed him across the parking lot and towards the front door. Bilbo tried not to gasp as the sliding glass doors opened automatically—after living so long without technology, even that simple feat seemed alien.

They walked through the doors and into a clean, open lobby. A woman was waiting by one of the other doorways next to a large plastic bin on wheels.

“We would ask that you remove all of your weapons and place them in the cart,” the man said, surveying their group.

Bilbo glanced around, and for the first time realized just how dirty they all were, their skin smeared with mud and sweat and their hair tangled. With the way they were standing, a tight pack poised to attack from all angles with Fíli and Kíli in the center, they rather looked like wild animals.

“We’ll keep our weapons, thanks.” Thorin stood with a deceptively open posture, but his right hand was loose, only a moment away from snatching up the gun at his hip.

The man regarded him impassively. “We do not use weapons in the facility, and it is a matter of security that visitors do not either.” When no one said anything, he added, “These are dangerous times. But if you are to trust that we will not harm you, then we must have the same faith in you.”

Thorin stared at the man for a few long moments, then nodded to the rest of the group. They walked as a unit over to the plastic bin and took turns depositing their guns and knives inside. Nori was the last to be done after he’d pulled at least two dozen makeshift weapons from his pockets, shoes, sleeves, and even a small blade he’d hidden in his hair.

The man’s eyebrows lifted a millimeter at the number of weapons, but the only thing he said was, “I’ll take you to see our director, now.”

They followed him down a long, white hallway. The lights here were dimmed—Bilbo supposed this was a way to save power. The whole place had a rather sanitized feel to it, only making it stranger.

“Is anyone else getting an asylum serial killer vibe, here?” Bofur whispered way too loudly. Óin shot him a look.

“What’s asylum serial killer?” Kíli asked, not even bothering to lower his voice, and Fíli shushed him with a pat on the shoulder. If Lindir heard him, he didn’t react.

Eventually they reached a door labeled  _ Dr. Elrond Peredhel _ . The room behind it was neatly furnished, with a couple of packed bookshelves and a sturdy wooden desk. The stern-looking man sitting behind it stood as they entered.

“Ah, I didn’t realize there would be so many.” He straightened his own lab coat. “Lindir, if you could show them to the conference room—”

“No,” Thorin said. “We can speak in here. The rest of our group will wait outside.” He glanced behind him and nodded to Glóin, who positioned herself beside the door. Bilbo realized he probably didn’t want any of them to be stuck in a room with only one exit without some sort of lookout or escape plan.

“Very well.” Elrond sat down again. “Are any of your group infected?”

“No. We’re only looking for a way through the valley. The road above is blocked by a fallen tree.”

“I see.” He regarded them with a strange neutrality. It was slightly off-putting, even if Bilbo didn’t believe him to be dangerous. “When it’s light out, we can send one of our vehicles to help remove it.”

Thorin shifted his weight. It was clear he was anxious to be back on the road as soon as possible. Though now that Bilbo thought about it, they were currently in a relatively safe place, one where they could at least spend the night. He opened his mouth to say something, but Elrond beat him to it.

“Until then, you are welcome to stay in the facility. We have some guest rooms that would be able to accommodate you all.”

“Why?” Thorin asked. “Why help us?”

Bilbo had to suppress a scoff. He could understand being cautious, but in their circumstances, he didn’t see any point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Elrond didn’t seem fazed at all by the question. “For the past few months we have used this facility to study the virus that caused the outbreak, so that we might help the remnants of humanity. We consider another part of that to be taking in any survivors that need shelter.”

Bilbo glanced back at the rest of the group. They were wary but haggard, and undoubtedly in desperate need of a place to sleep in peace. Kíli was already dozing off, leaning against Víli’s leg.

He turned back in time to see Thorin nod stiffly. Elrond looked neither pleased nor disappointed, and Lindir began edging his way towards the door, gesturing for them to follow him.

They walked back down the hallway, down a flight of stairs, and back outside. The facility, Bilbo realized, was a collection of multiple buildings. The grass in between the sidewalks connecting the buildings had grown long and unkempt. In the center was a fountain, which had long since dried up.

Eventually they reached a rectangular two-story building. Bilbo supposed since the facility was rather out of the way, the people who worked here or those that came from out of town would find it more convenient to stay on site.

“I’ll turn on the power for this building in a moment,” Lindir said, stopping by the door. “I only ask that you use it sparingly. That goes for the hot water, too.”

Despite their exhaustion, an excited murmur went up from the group at the mention of hot water, and Bilbo could have sworn he saw a slight smile on Lindir’s face as he walked away.

Chattering quietly, the group walked inside the building. Bilbo followed, eager to sleep on a real bed for once, but he was halted as Thorin grasped his upper arm.

He turned around as the rest of the group disappeared inside. Thorin frowned down at him, his voice little more than a growl. “Don’t ever undermine me like that again. We got lucky this time, but your impulse decision could have gotten us all killed. You can’t just step up and make choices for the whole group when it suits you.”

And before Bilbo could respond, he walked inside.

Ears burning, he stood there for a long moment before following him in.

Just inside was a lounge area with a few couches, a kitchenette, and a set of stairs. To the right was a hallway leading to the bedrooms. He headed upstairs and took the first empty room he saw, too exhausted to do much more than slip off his shoes and collapse onto the bed.

As he drifted off, his mind wandered back to what Thorin had said to him. He saw now that it had been a risky move on his part to ask for help from a group of strangers. Thorin had been leading the group all this time, after all, and probably knew best how to keep them safe.

But it didn’t sit well with him to be living in constant fear and paranoia. If he spent the rest of his life refusing to take chances, refusing to trust anyone, then what was the point of staying alive at all?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might have mentioned this in an earlier chapter, but please let me know how I'm doing handling such a big cast of characters. I keep worrying I'm going to forget someone, but obviously there's not enough time to pay attention to all of them.
> 
> So what do you guys think about what Bilbo did? Should he have taken that chance, or just listened to Thorin?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is at least somewhat familiar with Life, since I'm not sure how popular it is. Just for clarification purposes, you put little plastic figurines in your plastic car to represent your "family," with blue figurines for guys and pink figurines for girls. How is this relevant to the chapter? Read and find out ;)

**Chapter 11**

 

Bilbo was startled awake as something hit the side of his face. He blinked, breathing in the smell of blueberries and brown sugar. “What the hell?” he mumbled.

“They’re giving us food,” Víli’s voice came from the door. “Are you planning on waking up?”

He propped himself up on one elbow, finally managing to keep his eyes open, and realized it was a muffin that had been launched at his face. “What is...What?”

“We’re in the creepy research facility, remember?” Víli said, smiling as Bilbo sat up and rubbed at his face. “We decided to let you sleep in, but most of the others are in the cafeteria right now.”

He looked around at the plainly furnished room, memories of the previous night rushing back. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not sure.” Víli glanced at the window, where gray, cloudy sunlight glowed. “But we saved some food for you.”

“I noticed.” Bilbo picked up the muffin and put it on the tiny bedside table, so it would stop shedding crumbs all over the sheets. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll meet you there.”

“Roger that.”

Once Víli had left and closed the door behind him, Bilbo stood up and crossed the room to the bathroom door. It was a small space, with only a shower, sink, and a toilet. The hot water was lovely, enough that he didn’t mind too much having to put on his dirty clothes afterwards. Few of them had any real changes of clothing, since there wasn’t exactly a variety of choices in post-apocalyptic stores.

The day was cool and cloudy as he stepped outside, finishing the muffin and wiping crumbs from his mouth. Low-hanging clouds obscured the peaks of the mountains on either side. Now that it was daytime, he could see the facility better. Despite its rundown appearance, it looked much cleaner and more intact than a lot of the buildings they’d passed. It looked...livable.

He spotted Thorin standing outside one of the larger buildings, and assumed this was where everyone else was. He seemed to just be smoking (apparently he’d asked someone else for a lighter this time, Bilbo thought with a slight frown), though one hand hovered near his gun as he scanned the area. Bilbo passed him in silence, figuring he was still pissed about last night.

The cafeteria wasn’t hard to find once he was inside, what with the energetic chatter echoing down the hall. The majority of the group was seated around two round tables, passing around plates of bagels and hot potatoes and eggs. The smell hit his nose, and Bilbo felt his stomach give a loud, angry growl.

Bombur pulled out a chair for him, and Bofur spooned an ungodly amount of scrambled eggs onto his plate. Bilbo snatched up a fork and shoved the first bite into his mouth savoring the taste of fresh, hot food for the first time in weeks.

“Lindir said this was mostly frozen or premade stuff, but it’s not bad, eh?” Bofur said.

Bilbo swallowed and looked around. “Is he here?”

“Nah. He and a few others brought out the food, but they left after.”

There was no one else in the large room except for them, so Bilbo turned back to his meal. “I still wonder what they’re researching here.”

“They’ve got to be using human test subjects for something,” Nori said from across the table. “They’ll probably all lock us in a basement before we can leave so they can have a fresh supply of lab rats.”

Dori pinched his brow. “I seriously don’t know where you get these ideas.”

Bilbo pulled a face, hoping Nori was joking. “That, or they’re genuinely nice people who want to help us.”

“There’s no  _ nice _ in this world. You think they’d give us all this food for free just to send us on our way? They’re buttering us up.” As if to punctuate his point, Nori spread a thick layer of butter onto his bagel.

A tense silence fell across the table. Nori bringing up his slightly paranoid theories was nothing new, but they’d all grown a little more wary over the past few months.

Bilbo looked up in time to see Brana walk into the cafeteria. She made it halfway across the room before she froze, put a hand over her mouth, and hurried back towards the door. Glóin pushed back her chair and went after her.

_ Oh, no _ . He pushed the remainder of his eggs around his plate, worry boiling through his gut, then stood up and muttered an excuse to Bofur. Once he’d left the room, it took him only a few minutes to find the women’s bathroom. Low voices were coming from behind it, but he debated for a long moment before knocking.

Glóin opened it only wide enough for her to lean through and glare at him. “The men’s room is the next one over.”

“I-I know, I was just coming to see—”

“It’s okay,” Brana’s voice sounded from inside. “He can come in.”

She regarded him for another moment, then stepped back to let him pass. Bilbo hesitated for a moment, feeling as though he was about to breach some unspoken rule, then decided it was the end of the world and that he could forgive himself for this one.

Brana was leaning against the counter where the sinks were, arms crossed over her stomach. She nodded to him with a slight grimace as he walked inside.

“He was the one who got me the test,” she said to Glóin.

“And…?” Bilbo asked, though he was afraid he already knew the answer.

“It’s positive.” 

“Oh.” He leaned against the stall, feeling a bit lightheaded. “You’re sure?”

She gave a small shrug. “It’s getting pretty obvious at this point, anyway.” Glóin walked over and put an arm around her shoulders.

“What are you going to do?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Brana leaned against her wife, and Bilbo noticed for the first time the dark circles under her eyes. “Maybe things would be easier if we had a safe place to stay, but if we’re still on the road in six, seven months…”

“We’re not telling anyone yet, either,” Glóin said with a warning glance in his direction.

“When would you start, um…” Bilbo made a rounded gesture over his stomach.

“In the next month or so. I just need some time to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Well, my lips are sealed,” Bilbo said. “I wish there was more I could do.”

“You’ve already been so helpful,” Brana said with a smile. “But we’ll let you know.”

Glóin gave him a nod that was somehow both grateful and dismissive at the same time, and Bilbo knew the conversation was over. He showed himself out of the bathroom, but instead of heading back to the cafeteria, he began walking in the other direction. He needed to be alone, clear his head for a while.

The dimly-lit halls were white, unadorned, and only provided a contrast for the thoughts buzzing in his mind. It was possible they would have a  _ baby _ on the way. And that was assuming nothing went wrong with the pregnancy—if Brana chose to go through with it at all.

He passed a set of floor-to-ceiling windows and realized it was pouring outside. The rain created a flashing gray haze, making everything in the distance practically invisible. But part of the chaos was calming, with a layer of glass between him and the rest of the world.

“Not with the rest of your group?”

Bilbo started and turned to see Elrond walking towards him from the end of the hallway. He still walked with a straight posture and steady movements, but in the light of day there was a friendly slant to his expression.

“Oh, I just needed a moment alone.” He gave him a slight, inviting nod.

“Your group has been more...defensive than I expected.” Elrond joined him at the window. “Not that we really knew what to expect. None of us have been outside the facility in months.”

“I-If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you research here?”

He glanced at him, one brow arching. “I’ll show you.” He began walking down the hallway and gestured for Bilbo to follow.

He fell into step slightly behind him, feeling a prickle of foreboding beneath his skin. There was no evidence that Elrond had any sinister intentions, but Nori’s words had stuck with him. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the doctor didn’t have any sedative-filled syringes hidden in his white coat.

Elrond stepped into a well-lit lab room, complete with various centrifuges and microscopes and other tools Bilbo didn’t recognize on sanitized counters. The whiteboard on the back of the room displayed a projection of the human brain. The shelves were crowded with various labeled containers and papers.

“This was originally a facility meant for studying plant life in the valley,” Elrond said, stopping next to one of the microscopes. “When the outbreak happened, a few biomedical engineers and other doctors were shipped down here. This facility has a wide range of equipment and is far from any urban centers—it was a safeguard in case the cities were overrun.”

And they had been indeed. Bilbo scratched at his forearm. It made sense now why the facility had been self-sustaining for so long, if the government had equipped it with rations and a generator in case things went south.

“We’ve made some headway, learning how the virus works, but we have yet to find a cure.”

“How did you…” Bilbo paused, unsure how to phrase his question without sounding overly suspicious. “Where did you get the, um…”

“You’re asking where we obtained our test subjects,” Elrond said, one brow quirking upward. But in the next moment, a shadow fell across his expression. “One of the last doctors to arrive was infected. Whether she was unaware or simply hiding it, we never found out. But we were unprepared, and she turned and killed several others in the middle of the night.”

“Oh my god.” Bilbo’s mouth fell open. “That’s horrible.”

“Those that survived but were bitten gave permission for their bodies to be studied. We…” His mouth fell into a flat line. “We gained valuable information from the three that we examined.”

Bilbo finally realized the expression on his face was one of grief. “That...That must have been very difficult.”

Elrond nodded stiffly. “We can only hope that their untimely deaths will save other lives in the future.”

He realized that the doctor probably didn’t want to have an emotional heart-to-heart with someone he barely knew, and decided to change the subject. “So do you think a vaccine might be possible?”

“A vaccine?”

“I mean, so that a person might get bit but not turn into a, um, walker.”

Elrond searched his face for a moment. “Ah,” he said finally. “So you don’t know.”

A chill raced down his spine. “Know what?”

“The infection from the bite only causes a deadly fever.” He tapped the microscope with one long finger. “The virus, the one that resurrects the dead, is present in every living person.”

“What?” He took a step back, his pulse thundering in his ears. “What do you mean?”

“Death itself is the cause of resurrection,” Elrond explained calmly. “If one were to die from blood loss or pneumonia, for instance, without having been bitten, they would still come back as a walker, as you call them.”

“Oh.” His head spun with the implications of that statement. As if the world wasn’t already screwed up enough, now any one of them had the potential to turn into a walking, soulless corpse. Another, awful thought entered his mind, and he began speaking before he knew what he was doing. “If...I-If, let’s say, a fetus were to die inside the mother, would it…?”

“That, I do not know. We have not had the chance to study something like that.” Elrond searched his face. “Is one of your group pregnant?”

Bilbo cleared his throat. He really shouldn’t have said anything. But now that he thought about it, he sensed an opportunity, one that could potentially benefit the whole group. “If that were the case,  _ hypothetically _ …you would have doctors here, right? Ones that would be able to help her?”

His lips pursed a fraction. “We would not be able to let everyone stay. It would put too great a strain on our resources.”

He nodded. Seventeen people was a lot to take on. “If I could convince two of them to stay…?”

“I would certainly consider it.”

“Thank you.” He huffed out a relieved sigh. Despite his earlier suspicion, it seemed to him now that Elrond had a good heart, despite his slightly strange mannerisms. “I, um, I’d better get going. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

Elrond nodded as Bilbo turned to leave. “Tell your group they are welcome to stay another night. With this rain, I doubt we’ll be able to help you get through the valley.”

“I will. Thank you.” He left the room, grateful that they had more time to stay, though his brow furrowed at the terrible fact that Elrond had shared with him.

* * *

 

“No.” Brana shook her head and leaned against the wall. “I’m not staying here.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry.” Bilbo spread his hands. “About any of the health aspects, or about raising your child in a safe place.” He looked to Glóin, who was seated on the bed in their shared room, but she only glanced at her wife.

“Look, I understand your concern. Practically, it makes sense. But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself letting you guys continue on, not knowing what was happening to you while I was safe.”

Glóin gave a short nod. “Family first.”

“But what about when you tell the others? They would want you to stay behind.”

Brana crossed her arms. “It doesn’t matter what they’d want. It’s my decision.”

“Well, of course. I only meant…”

“I know you’re just trying to look out for me, Bilbo.” She gave him a slight smile. “Just trust that I know what I’m doing. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop.”

Bilbo nodded. “Like I said before, if you—”

They all froze at a knock on the door. Glóin stood and opened it, revealing Dís on the other side.

“Is Bilbo here?” She peered inside and found him. “Ah. Can I borrow you for a second?”

“Uh, sure.” He glanced at Brana and Glóin and stepped outside. “What is it?”

“I’m hiring you as a babysitter.” She clapped him on the shoulder as they began walking down the hallway. “Do you think you could watch Fíli and Kíli tonight? Víli and I wanted some…time by ourselves, and I just wanted to make sure the boys have someone to go to if they need anything.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiled. “Where are they now?”

“I think their room is on the first floor, one of the doors on the right.” She stopped at the stairs before they could head down. “What were you talking to Glóin and Brana about?”

“Um.” His cheeks heated. He hadn’t thought to come up with some sort of excuse before heading into their room. “We were just chatting. You know.”

Dís nodded slowly, and he inwardly cursed. “Well, if you ever need any relationship advice, you can always ask me. I might be in a straight relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have things to share.”

His mental panic screeched to a halt. “Wait, what?”

She gave him a knowing smirk. “I know Thorin better than anyone here. So if you need any advice…”

“That’s—That’s not—no.” Bilbo shook his head, his face burning. “I-I wasn’t asking for—”

Dís only chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “I hear you.” She started off towards her room. “Loud and clear.”

He could still feel his heart thumping as he made his way down to Fíli and Kíli’s room. But before he could begin to ponder who exactly knew about his feelings for Thorin, his attention was drawn to the angry voices on the other side of the door.

“Why don’t you listen to me?” Fíli was shouting when he walked in. Kíli was seated on his bed, facing the wall with his hands clapped over his ears and shouting gibberish.

“What’s going on here?” Bilbo asked, causing Fíli to turn to him. Kíli continued to yell, but he elected to ignore that for the moment.

“Kíli’s being mean,” Fíli said, his face screwed up in anger. He made to stalk past him, but Bilbo blocked his path.

“Now, hang on a second. Just tell me what— _ Kíli _ , could you please…” He waited until the younger boy had quieted, then continued. “What’s the problem, then? Storming off isn’t going to help anything.”

“I was telling Kíli to pack his bag since we’re leaving tomorrow.” Fíli crossed his arms and scowled down at the mess of clothes and other supplies on the floor. Bilbo hadn’t thought anything of it at first, since they’d both been rather messy when living in his apartment. “But he just made a mess. He won’t listen to me.”

Bilbo glanced back at Kíli, who had flopped down onto his side and was still facing the wall. It wasn’t like him, hyperactive as he sometimes was, to be so belligerent.

“I’m telling mom.” Fíli tried to push past him again, but Bilbo put a hand on his shoulder.

“Your mom is, um…” He scrunched his mouth to the side, trying to choose his words carefully. “She’s a bit busy right now. She asked me to watch you.” He ushered Fíli back into the room and closed the door. “So let’s figure out what the problem is. Kíli, why don’t you want to pack up your things?”

All he received was an exaggerated shrug.

“See?” Fíli jabbed a finger at his brother. “I asked him that too, and he wouldn’t answer me. ‘Cause he doesn’t want to—”

This set Kíli off again, and Bilbo pinched his nose as Fíli tried to shout over him. “Alright! Alright, that’s enough!” When they still didn’t quiet down, he reached over and flipped the light switch, which was enough to shock them into silence. He turned it back on and said, “Since the both of you can’t talk this out without getting angry, we’re going to try something else. On your feet, Kíli.”

After a moment, he rolled out of bed, not meeting their eyes.

“Come on, then.” Bilbo patted Fíli’s shoulder and led them both out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Ori looked up from his paperback as they passed by the lounge area. “Everything all right?”

“I think I have it under control,” Bilbo said with a slight grimace, and led them outside.

The grass was still damp from the day’s rain, and the rising moon cast a silvery sheen over the lawn as they walked. Both brothers made a point of walking on either side of him, but he was willing to let it slide. Whenever he was feeling frustrated or restless, taking a walk usually did him some good, and he hoped it would help the boys as well.

After a lap around the facility, both of them were still in a sullen silence, so Bilbo took them inside the main building. It was eerily silent, but a few of the labs still had their lights on. A dark-haired woman passed them in the hallway, and before he could even ask, she pointed back the way she’d come and said, “The rec room’s that way.”

“Thanks.” Bilbo nodded to her and led the boys in that direction.

Clearly most of the facility’s budget had gone towards equipment and the like, since the room was rather plainly furnished. There was an air hockey table against one wall next to a couch. On the opposite side was a TV and a bookshelf. Fíli and Kíli made a beeline for the former, while Bilbo went to check the latter. There were a few board games stacked near the bottom, along with some well-worn paperbacks. Bilbo selected one at random, which featured a pretty woman wearing a lab coat and not much else, titled  _ The Test Subject _ . He decided to give that a pass and put it back in his place.

Fíli had pried open the cabinet beside the TV and pulled out one of the titles within. “Crash Bandicoot? I love this game!”

Kíli was repeatedly pressing the power button on the TV, but the screen remained dark. Bilbo walked over and looked behind. The plug had been pulled out of the outlet, which was covered with black tape.

“Ah.” He gestured for Kíli to stop. “They must have unplugged it to save power.” He shot the boys a sympathetic grimace. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to find something else to do.”

Fíli put the game back with a sigh and trudged over to the bookshelf. Bilbo made to follow him, both to help him pick out a board game and make sure he didn’t pick up the wrong book, but stopped as a loud sniffle came from Kíli.

He was standing in front of the TV, shoulders sagging as tears streamed down his face. Bilbo’s heart broke at his forlorn expression, and he rushed over and put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right. I’m sure we’ll find something fun to do.” He frowned. Kíli was usually in a good enough mood to take his disappointments in stride. He looked over at Fíli for support, but he was staring stonily at the board game boxes as though they held the very secrets to the universe. He turned back to Kíli and knelt down. “What’s the matter, then?”

“I don’t wanna leave.” Kíli sniffled again and wiped his face, smearing snot all over his sleeve. “I don’t wanna sleep in the car again.”

“Oh.” Bilbo sat back on his heels. It was certainly something he should have considered before, that after all the strain and danger the apocalypse had put on such a young boy, he’d want to cling to the first safe place they stayed at.

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Kíli asked, his little chest trembling with sobs.

“I know.” He pulled him into a hug, silently winced at the growing wet patch on his shoulder as Kíli continued crying. “I wish we could stay, too. And it certainly isn’t fair. But you must remember,” he pulled back to look him in the eye, “even if we are back on the road and sleeping in our cars, you will still be surrounded by people who love you and want to protect you.”

Kíli’s lip trembled, and he still looked rather unconvinced.

“Look, Elrond wouldn’t let all of us stay behind. There are too many of us, and if you did want to stay, that would mean the rest of us leaving you behind.” Kíli looked rather stricken at this, and Bilbo quickly added, “Not—Not that any of us would ever do that.” He bit his tongue. He shouldn’t have said that, especially after what had happened at the motel. “Tomorrow, we’re all going to leave this place together, and everything will be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re uncle is a good man,” Bilbo said, surprising himself. He didn’t know where that particular thought had come from, but he knew it was true. “And he knows how to keep all of us safe. There is nothing I or any of the others wouldn’t do for you. And one day, we’ll find a place where we can all live together and you’ll be able to sleep in your own bed and play as many video games as you want. Does that sound good?”

Kíli nodded and sniffled again. Bilbo pulled him close again and held him until his sobs subsided.

“Hey.” Fíli rattled the board game box in his hand. “Can we play this?”

Bilbo let go and turned to see which game he was talking about. He nearly jumped as he realized Thorin was standing in the doorway. His cheeks heated as he wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“I’ll help you set it up.” Kíli wiped his face and made his way towards his brother.

Fíli evidently considered this enough of an apology for his earlier behavior and smiled. He turned to Thorin as his brother opened the box. “Do you want to play with us, Uncle Thorin?”

“Sure.” He nodded and walked into the room, and Bilbo had to remind himself to stop staring at the length of his body.

He said very little as they sat on the floor in front of the TV, letting the brothers chatter away as they tried to decipher the directions for the game. Apparently they were playing the Game of Life, which seemed grotesquely ironic given their situation, but the boys seemed cheerful enough. 

He still felt awkward around Thorin after their confrontation the previous day. On his part, Thorin was also rather quiet, though his gaze was filled with quiet affection as he watched his nephews set up the board.

The boys were more than happy to fill up the silence as they played. Kíli made a face as he picked his career card. “What’s an accountant?”

“Well—” Bilbo and Thorin both said at the same time, and Thorin gave a short nod, deferring to him. He cleared his throat and said, “An accountant is someone who helps a person or a business decide how to spend their money.”

“That sounds boring.”

“That’s just ‘cause you’re bad at math,” Fíli said, flicking his stack of paper money. “When I grow up, I wanna be a soldier like Uncle Thorin.”

“No, you don’t,” Thorin said lowly.

“But then I could keep everyone safe.”

Bilbo glanced at the line of tension growing on Thorin’s brow and said, “What about being a librarian, like me? You could read all the books you want.”

“I already know how to be a librarian,” Kíli said, then turned to his brother and shushed him loudly. Fíli burst into laughter, and even Thorin cracked a smile.

“Oh, very funny.” Bilbo rolled his eyes, trying not to let his lips twitch. “I think it’s my turn, yes?”

Thorin was the first to get married, and Bilbo didn’t pay much attention until he realized he’d placed a little blue figurine next to his own in the plastic car. His pulse picked up, and he quickly set about organizing the little stack of cards in front of him. Certainly it didn’t mean anything. This was just a game, after all. Perhaps blue was just his favorite color.

All the same, Bilbo placed a blue figurine in his own car when he landed on the marriage spot, and Fíli and Kíli did the same, though whether it was of their own preference or they were just copying them, he wasn’t sure.

The rest of the game went mostly uneventfully, with Fíli surprisingly taking the lead income-wise, while Kíli did rather poorly due to some unwise purchases and Thorin occasionally grumbled about the inaccurate costs of different products and services.

“Don’t worry,” Fíli said as he smugly paid for the mansion card. “I’ll let you guys come visit my giant house.”

Kíli, who was still stuck with the cheap trailer home, picked up his plastic car. “I can just put my house inside your house.” He rammed the car into one of the plastic houses on the board.

“Then I’m gonna park my car inside  _ your _ house.” Fíli took his vehicle and smashed it into Kíli’s. The small figurines went flying.

Soon, they were involved in an all-out battle that sent most of the pieces skittering from the board. Bilbo extracted his family of four before it could become a casualty.

“Seems the apocalypse came early,” Thorin said, putting his own family out of the danger zone.

Bilbo hummed in agreement and placed his own car next to Thorin’s. “Looks like we’re back on the road.”

Thorin smiled at him, blue eyes bright, and Bilbo felt his heart skip a beat. He looked down at their cars, parked next to each other on the linoleum floor, and couldn’t help the answering grin that spread across his face.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that scene in the lab didn't make it too obvious that I'm a liberal arts major... I'm not sure if the "we're all infected" thing was a twist for anyone, since that's established pretty early on in the show. Kind of sucks already that there's zombies at all, but it's useful to know!
> 
> Speaking of sciencey things, The Test Subject is a real book...I do not have the rights to that book, nor have I ever read it, I just wanted a title and to spend the least amount of time looking at mad scientist erotica (which is a thing apparently...)
> 
> Two important things:
> 
> Earlier I was stressing about keeping all the plot points/continuity in order (like sometimes I forget that there's supposed to be walkers around...lmao), so if you guys see anything missing or feel like I should be giving more attention to something, please let me know!
> 
> Also, I bumped the rating up to M because of something that happens in Chapter 13. No spoilers, but it is violence-related, not sexual (sorry).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a mention and description of a dead infant in this chapter.

**Chapter 12**

 

From his position on the mountainside, Thorin could see for miles.

Just below were the lower foothills of the Misty Mountains. It had taken them another day to reach the other side, thanks to Elrond’s help with clearing the road. They’d left on relatively good terms and with some extra rations, though Nori still muttered occasionally that they’d been microchipped in their sleep.

Further out, he could see the rich forestland of the east, interrupted by a few towns here and there. The skyline of Dale was visible closer to the horizon, and just beyond that, the Lonely Mountain. He stared at the tiny silhouette for a long moment, lost in memory.

“Enjoying the view?”

Thorin glanced behind him as Bilbo walked up the path, hands tucked into his pockets. He looked relaxed in the morning light, his hair slightly mussed from sleep. He ignored the sudden, pleasant twinge in his chest and nodded.

“Um, the others are ready to leave when you are.” Bilbo came to a stop next to him but stood stiffly, as if he was unsure if he was welcome or not.

“I’ll be down soon.” He turned back to the landscape below and leaned his hands on the wood railing. They’d spent the night in an abandoned hunting lodge, and he’d gone up a hiking trail early the next morning to see if he could get a better view of what lay ahead. “How did you know where to find me?”

Bilbo shrugged. “Instincts, I guess.”

A few seconds of awkward silence ticked by. Thorin wasn’t sure where it was coming from, or how they could go from joking together to this in a matter of days, but one of them would have to speak.

He cleared his throat. “Do you know—”

“I wanted to—” Bilbo started at the same time, then coughed out a laugh. “Sorry.”

Thorin nodded to him. “Go ahead.”

“Well.” He shifted his weight, fingers tapping on the wood of the railing. “I wanted to apologize. For what happened at Rivendell. I mean, asking to come in without consulting the rest of you.”

Right. He had confronted Bilbo about it that night, and they hadn’t talked about it since. “I know you meant well. But we can’t afford to take risks like that. Not the way things are now.”

“I know. I made a stupid mistake.” He leaned his hip against the railing. “But you don’t have to feel like you’re doing this by yourself. We’re all trying to survive together. Not everything has to be on you.”

Thorin wasn’t sure if he fully agreed with that, but he didn’t feel like arguing with Bilbo at the moment. “Alright, then. Help me with something.” He jerked his chin at the landscape below. “I’m up here trying to figure out where we should go next. You have any ideas?” When Bilbo raised his eyebrows slightly, he added, “Since you...like maps.”

He resisted the urge to cringe at the awkward response, but Bilbo didn’t seem to think anything of it. He leaned against the railing next to him and looked out over the greenery below.

After a few minutes’ consideration, he said, “Well, I don’t think we should focus so much on the destination as the journey.” When Thorin shot him a look, he added, “I’m serious. If we’re in a hurry to rush off somewhere, we might miss something important. It’s not as if we have any deadlines, right?” Even as he said it, a shadow of doubt passed over his face.

Thorin hummed in consideration. “I’d rather not be on the move when winter comes.” Already, some of the trees were tinged with orange and yellow.

“I’m sure we’ll find someplace. We are in good hands, after all,” Bilbo said with a slight smile.

Thorin’s face warmed at that. He’d caught the tail end of Bilbo’s conversation with Kíli, when Bilbo had called him a good man. He knew his family respected him, trusted him, but it was comforting to know Bilbo felt the same.

He spared one last glance at the mountain in the distance, and he and Bilbo walked back to camp together.

* * *

 

“Alright, go.”

“Keep your eye on the queen.” Nori threw three cards down on the table and began shuffling them around. “Still following it?”

Bilbo leaned forward, eyes fixed on the designated card. “Of course I am.”

After another minute of shuffling, he lifted his hands, and Bilbo pointed at the one on the right. With a smirk, Nori flipped it over, revealing a six of hearts.

“How?” Bilbo threw up his hands and sat back. “I was watching it the whole time!”

“Gotta be faster.” Nori flipped the middle card, revealing the queen. “I once got into a knife fight over this game. I still have the scar.”

“Really?” Bilbo suppressed a disbelieving smile. This wasn’t the first crazy story Nori had told him, but given his assortment of weird skills and how weirdly specific some of his stories were, he couldn’t help but think at least some of them were true.

He stretched and looked out the window of the RV. “So, what did you do before...all this?”

“I worked in sales at a pet store.”

“Oh.” Bilbo blinked, trying to imagine him in a blue polo shirt with a cartoon cat embroidered on it. “I was expecting something more…”

“Well, when I was in prison, I had this sort of wood-carving business going on. It was pretty underground, but still popular.”

“Ah. There we go.” He frowned for a moment. “How did you end up in prison?”

“Forging Pokémon cards.”

“What?” He shot an incredulous glance at Bifur, who was sitting on the sofa cleaning his gun. Bifur shrugged, and he turned back to Nori. “I don’t even know what—never mind. I think if I keep asking questions, I’ll only get more confused.”

The RV slowed, and he looked out the window again. All he could see was trees, which probably meant they hadn’t stopped to rest or look for supplies.

When he climbed out, he realized what the problem was. They’d reached a tall, two-lane bridge that was completely crowded with abandoned cars. Bilbo sighed and looked around at their group of vehicles. In such a narrow space, it would take a while to get everyone turned around.

“We’ll have to head back to that intersection a few miles back,” Thorin said, halfway out of his car. “Dwalin, get your truck turned around. Then we’ll see what we can do about the RV.”

“Why don’t we check these cars while we’re at it?” Dori said. “The RV is running low on gas, anyway.”

Thorin frowned at the bridge for a long moment. “Fine. Stay alert, and go in pairs.”

Bofur appeared at his side and linked arms with Bilbo. “What do you say? Wanna go siphon some gas?”

Bilbo smiled. “Sounds like fun.” He thought he saw Thorin scowling at them as they passed, but decided he had absolutely no patience to decipher what mood he was in today and continued on without a backwards glance.

They picked a red SUV a little ways down the bridge, and Bofur checked the gas tank while Bilbo searched the interior of the car. In the trunk, he found a paper bag full of Christmas ornaments, of all things. He held one up. “Feel like decorating your hat?”

“Wrong season for it,” Bofur said. “And I’m Jewish.”

“Oh, right.” Bilbo put the ornament back and closed the trunk after finding nothing of value.

“This car’s empty.” He picked up the gas can. “I’m gonna check the next one over.”

“Don’t go too far.” Bilbo went to check the front of the car. In the glovebox he found an mp3 player which, miraculously, still had a bit of battery left in it, and pocketed it for future perusal.

They had more luck with the next car, both with a bit of gas and a few packets of food half-hidden under the seats.

“Hey,” Bofur said to Brana, who was searching with Bombur. “You check that truck yet?”

“No,” she said. “But let me know if you find some toothpaste, or mints, or something. I’m almost out, and I don’t—” She let out a small scream.

Bilbo jumped at the sound, and he and Bofur rushed over to where she was standing, staring into one of the car windows with a stricken expression. He looked inside, and felt the air leave his lungs in a dizzying rush.

It was rotted by now, after however many months it had been in there, but the shape strapped into the carseat was unmistakable. It couldn’t have been more than a year old.

He let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know what to say—there was nothing he  _ could _ say.

“Alright, we don’t need to be looking at that.” Bombur took Brana, who looked rather faint, by the arm and started leading her away from the car.

Bofur took Bilbo’s shoulder and squeezed it, and this was enough to break him out of his shock. He turned to Brana as the four of them walked away. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” She nodded, lips pressed tightly together. “Might be sick.”

“Let’s get you back to the cars.” Bombur began walking her to the end of the bridge.

“Well,” Bofur said, forced cheer in his voice. “You still up for looking around?”

Bilbo swallowed hard. “Might as well.”

They continued on, finding a few more provisions to put in their packs. Bilbo found a couple of toy cars that Kíli would like and stowed them away.

About halfway down the bridge, Bilbo paused as a strange grating noise reached his ears. He paused and focused his hearing with a frown. The noise tugged at something in his memory, but he couldn’t identify it right away.

He turned to Bofur. “Do you hear that?”

Low, quick footsteps made them both turn. Dwalin was sprinting towards them, weaving between the cars.

“Down!” he hissed, motioning with one hand. “Get out of sight!”

“Wha—” Bilbo began, but Bofur was already tugging him towards a nearby pickup truck. They clambered into the back, and as Bilbo lifted himself up, he realized with horror that a herd of about fifty walkers was crossing the bridge. They must have snuck up on them while they were turning the cars around. He couldn’t see any of the others, and hoped that meant they’d been able to hide as well.

He and Bofur lay flat in the bed of the truck, trying not to breathe too hard as the shuffling and growls of the walkers came closer. The noise finally struck a chord in his memory—it was the same as the time a herd had passed by the motel. He suppressed a shudder and prayed that they’d be able to make it through this one together and alive.

The day was rather hot, and Bilbo could already feel sweat pooling against his back and under his arms as they lay silently. The black material of the truck bed certainly wasn’t helping.

The heat only made the stench of the walkers more pronounced as they drew closer, and Bilbo muffled his noise of disgust as a wave of it passed over the truck. It was an incentive not to breathe too much, at least.

It seemed that an eternity had passed by the time their growls and footsteps began to fade. Slowly, Bilbo sat up, wincing at the sensation of his sweaty shirt sticking to his back. The majority of the herd had reached the other half of the bridge at this point.

“Come on,” Bofur whispered, motioning for him to hop down from the truck. They made their way towards the RV together, still keeping an eye out for any stragglers.

A motion at their feet nearly had him crying out, but it was only Dwalin, dragging himself out from his hiding place underneath a blue car. He nodded to them, and they continued towards the RV.

Now that his heart had lessened its pounding somewhat, he could hear the low growls of a few walkers interspersed throughout the bridge. Where they were exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he copied the others and walked in a crouch to stay out of sight.

Dwalin had taken the lead, with Bofur right behind him and Bilbo in the rear. He muffled a gasp as a walker stepped out from between two cars, cutting him off from the other two. Nearly tripping over his feet, he darted behind a minivan and stayed low, praying the walker wouldn’t come his way.

Its shadow swayed across the dark pavement as it moved. The ratty edge of its sneakers appeared next to the car, and Bilbo crept around the corner as quietly as he could. Each panicked breath strained against his chest, only adding to his trembling.

A low, hollow  _ bang _ , like something knocking against a car door, sounded from across the bridge. The noise was enough to distract the walker, and it turned around with a low growl. Bilbo risked standing up, both to give a break for his aching legs and see what had caused the noise.

Thorin was standing on the other side of the bridge, pinned against the side of a car as he wrestled with a particularly large walker. He needed both hands to keep it away, and wasn’t able to reach for any of the weapons on his belt. With the other making its way towards him, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bilbo fumbled for the knife in his pocket. It was a pocket knife, the blade barely longer than his middle finger, but it would have to do. He unfolded the blade and gripped the handle, which was already slick with sweat, then lunged at the walker in front of him.

His first strike entered its neck, enough to make it stagger but not to kill it. The walker growled and began to turn around. Bilbo yanked the blade out, sending a stream of dark blood to the ground, and stabbed it higher, right into the brain. Before the walker had even fallen, he was already stumbling forward, anxious to see if Thorin was all right.

He was still against the car, arms straining against the walker’s weight. At six feet tall, it was much too big for someone Bilbo’s size to have any hope of killing it. He sent a desperate glance around, but it seemed Dwalin and Bofur had already gone ahead, or were perhaps dealing with their own walkers.

Thorin finally sent one hand fumbling for the gun at his hip, and narrowly managed to dodge as the walker tried to sink its teeth into his neck. One arm went up, probably meant to jam underneath its jaw, but it changed its angle and clamped its teeth around his arm.

The world around him seemed to slow. Bilbo knew he was too far away to reach him in time. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he’d slipped his gun from his pocket and fired.

The walker’s head exploded, dark blood and bits of bone spraying against the car window. Thorin froze for a second, then his wide blue eyes found Bilbo.

“What the hell was that?”

Bilbo scarcely dared to breathe as he lowered his gun and rushed towards him. “Are you bit? D-Did it…?”

Thorin spared a moment to roll up his sleeve. A dark, mouth-shaped bruise was already forming on his forearm, but it looked as though none of the skin was broken. If he’d been a second later…

He turned back to him, and Bilbo was surprised and a bit outraged to see a glare on his face. “Do you realize what you just did?”

Bilbo drew himself up. “Well, I—”

But then it hit him, and he turned to the other end of the bridge. The herd of walkers, as well as any stragglers, had no doubt heard the gunshot. Already, he could see a few bodies making their way back towards them.

“We have to go.” Thorin grabbed his shoulder and shoved him towards the RV. “Now!”

He swallowed his indignation for the moment and sprinted towards the end of the bridge where the rest of their group was. A walker stepped out from behind a truck, reaching for him, but Thorin shot it in the head.

At the end of the bridge, someone cried out, and another gunshot sounded. Bilbo reached the rest of the group to find both cars were turned around and the RV was nearly there. He counted five heads in the former two, and hurried into the RV with Thorin right on his heels.

“We have everyone?” Thorin asked, looking around the small space for a quick headcount—Bombur in the driver’s seat with Nori sitting next to him, Ori and Dori seated at the table, and Fíli peeking out of the bedroom door with wide eyes.

“I think that’s everyone,” Nori said. He had his feet propped on the dash as though they hadn’t just had a harrowing escape from a herd of walkers. “Floor it, Bombur.”

“Let me see your hand,” Dori said, tugging at Ori’s sleeve. “You’re bleeding.”

“Fíli.” Thorin crossed the RV, putting a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Bilbo braced a hand on the kitchenette counter and sighed. As much as he didn’t want to ruin the moment, he had to address what had happened back there. “Thorin.”

Thorin turned back to him, his expression darkening. “What you did back there—”

“Was save your life.” He straightened up. He wasn’t about to let Thorin bulldoze the conversation again. “If I hadn’t shot that walker, it would have bit you.”

“I had it under control,” Thorin said, taking a step forward, and Bilbo let out an incredulous laugh. “That gunshot could have had the whole herd on us before we got out, and then one of us  _ would _ have gotten bit.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bilbo shot back, his voice nearly at a shout. He staggered as Bombur made a sharp turn, and braced one hand against the table, where Dori was still pestering his brother. “Yes, I took a risk. Yes, it was dangerous. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s flesh-eating dead people wandering about! Of course it was fucking dangerous, and I still saved your life! If anything, I deserve a thank you!”

Fíli peeked out from behind Thorin, his eyes wide. In the passenger seat, Nori gave a low whistle.

Thorin drew himself up as well, looking like an angry bear. “You seem to think,” he said, his voice low but still dangerous, “that you can put everyone else at risk if it suits your idea of—”

“You were about to get bit! And everyone survived! Everyone is okay!” Bilbo knew he wasn’t about to come to any sort of agreement with Thorin while shouting like this, but he needed to blow off some steam. “You think you’re keeping everyone safe with your paranoia, but—”

“ _ Ori, _ ” Dori said, and the horror in his voice was enough to make him stop.

Bilbo turned to see him clutching his brother’s arm, staring at the red mark on his hand, just below his thumb. Ori’s face had almost drained entirely of color.

The RV went silent, except for the humming of the engine, and Bilbo realized that no, it wasn’t just a smear of the red marker that Ori used in his sketches. There was blood, running in tiny rivers from the small, separated wounds in his skin.

It was, very clearly, the wound from a set of teeth.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So by now you probably all know why the story got bumped up to M, and oof...that was not a fun scene to write.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you all know what is about to happen. If you're not comfortable with reading about an amputation, please skip to the next line break. I thought about even bumping it up to explicit, so let me know if you thought this was too much for just M.

#  **Chapter 13**

 

“What happened?” Nori stood from the passenger seat in an easy, casual motion and made for the booth. “You get another scraped knee, or—” He saw Ori’s hand and stopped dead.

Fíli pushed his way forward and took in the scene, then looked up at Thorin. “Is he bit?”

Bilbo leaned against the counter, swallowing back his dizziness, and looked to Thorin as well. His face was pale, the panic and fear shining in his eyes making a chill run down his spine. But it was only there for a moment before he jumped into action. He slipped off his belt and wrapped it around the middle of Ori’s forearm, pulling it as tight as he could.

“Bombur, signal the others. We need to get Óin in here.”

“Is he—” Bombur stopped, his voice cracking slightly, and pressed down on the horn.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dori sounded breathless. “Are you really suggesting that we—that we cut off—”

“It’s the only way to save him,” Thorin said, his voice ragged. “We stop the virus from reaching the rest of his body, he might have a chance. It’s our only option.”

Dori opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue, but Nori cut him off. “He’s right. We have to do this.”

Fíli glanced between Thorin and Ori, his jaw trembling. Bilbo reached out for him and pulled him to the front of the RV, bracing himself against the wall as it slowed down.

“When Óin gets on, I want you to trade places with him, alright?” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Is Ori gonna be okay?” Fíli looked up at him, searching his face with pleading eyes.

“We—We’ll take care of him,” he said, trying to control his shaky breaths. He didn’t even want to think about what had to happen next. All he could do was make sure Fíli didn’t have to witness it.

When the RV pulled to a stop, Bilbo took Fíli’s hand and led him outside, sparing a quick glance around to make sure there were no walkers nearby. They hurried to Dwalin’s truck, where Óin’s fluffy gray hair was visible in the passenger seat. He rapped on the window, and Óin opened the door.

“W-We need you in the RV,” he said.

Dwalin frowned and leaned forward. “What the hell happened?”

Bilbo could only shake his head, feeling cold, and stepped back as Óin climbed out of the truck and made his way towards the RV.

Glóin stepped out of the backseat and motioned to Fíli. “Take my seat.” She helped him inside and climbed in next to Dwalin.

“Okay.” With his task completed, Bilbo hurried back to the RV. Dís shot him a questioning glance from the other car as he passed, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He had barely stepped inside the RV before they were moving again. They couldn’t risk the herd catching up to them.

“...rubbing alcohol, a serrated knife, and as many spare cloths as you can find,” Óin was saying. “And I need everyone out of the way. These are hardly ideal conditions as is, and it won’t help if you’re all crowding me.”

“Bullshit,” Nori said at the same time Dori cried, “He’s my brother!”

Before Óin could respond, Ori spoke, his voice barely audible over the rumble of the engine. “Please.” He looked to be on the verge of tears. “I’ll be okay. Just go.”

“A-Are you sure?” Dori asked.

“Let’s just go.” Nori grabbed his arm, his shoulders sagging, and they both walked into the bedroom.

“Here.” Thorin returned from the closet, a bundle of cloth in one hand and a mostly-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol in the other. He set it on the table and pulled the knife from his belt. It was a large one, lethally sharp at the end and serrated on one side of the blade. “You can use mine.”

Óin nodded and grabbed a towel from the bundle, spreading it on the table. He lay Ori’s arm on top of it and doused another cloth with alcohol, which he used to clean the knife. “I need you to hold him down.”

Thorin glanced at him, uncertainty flashing in his gaze again, but moved into the opposite side of the booth and placed his hand over Ori’s.

Nori walked back over to the table, thrusting out a flask with one hand. “You’ll need a steady hand,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically stiff. “Give the rest to my brother.”

Óin grunted a thanks and took a swig, then handed it to Ori, who only barely managed to choke down what was left inside.

Nori went to go sit in the back with Dori, but Bilbo stayed where he was, his muscles frozen. He knew he should join them, that there was no reason for him to stand by and watch, but he couldn’t move. 

He’d witnessed a bad car crash as a child, peeking from the back window of his father’s car, and had watched every gory detail of it—the shattering windows, the explosion of dust, what had happened to the people inside. He hadn’t been able to look away.

It was the same now, as he stood stiffly and watched Óin line up the knife against Ori’s arm. Ori was taking shaky, controlled breaths, staring at his own hand and the wounds on it, though Bilbo could tell he wasn’t really seeing it.

“It’s alright,” Thorin said, his voice sounding strangely distant. “You’re going to be fine.” He placed his other hand on the inside of Ori’s elbow.

And without any more preparation left to do, Óin began cutting into him.

At the first sight of blood, the way it welled up and immediately soaked into the towel beneath, Bilbo couldn’t move at all. Ori began to scream immediately, the wretched sound filling the whole room. It was only when the wound grew deeper that Bilbo was finally able to turn away, the screams filling his senses as tears welled in his eyes. He leaned over the sink, scarcely able to hear his own heaving breaths.

When the screams did stop, it was only a second before Thorin asked, “What happened?” The sharp edge of panic in his voice lanced through the silence.

“He’s passed out,” Óin said, sounding as if there was something stuck in his throat. “Try and keep him upright. I’m almost done.”

The awful grating noise of the knife was still audible, and Bilbo pressed a hand to his mouth. He was going to be sick.

It seemed an eternity had passed before Óin said, “All right. Take the rest of those and put pressure on the—on the wound. I’ll wrap this up. Bilbo.”

At the sound of his name, he turned around, and was entirely unprepared for the sight behind him. Ori was leaning against the window, and he almost could have imagined that he was only sleeping if it weren’t for the deathly pallor of his skin. Thorin had a bundle of cloth pressed against the remainder of his arm, sticky red blood clinging to his fingers.

But it was the red that really caught his attention. It had almost entirely soaked the towel laid out on the table. It was already seeping through a small bundle next to the red-stained knife, which undoubtedly contained the…

Bilbo watched a tiny rivulet of blood run across the table and drip down onto the floor and swayed.

“Bandages.” Óin swatted him hard on the arm, knocking him back to his senses. “Third shelf in the closet. We’re not done here yet, understand?”

Nodding numbly, Bilbo made his way over to the closet, his muddled mind imagining that each step on the dark carpet squelched with the blood soaked through. He found the rolls of bandages where Óin had said they would be and grabbed a couple.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Dori and Nori pushed past him. Neither of them were able to say anything before Óin was snapping for them to get out of the way. Bilbo shook himself and hurried over, passing the bandages to him.

“Is he gonna live?” Nori asked, his voice flat. Dori said nothing, simply staring at his brother with tears running down his face.

“If the bleeding stops soon, and he doesn’t get an infection, he’ll live. The bandages will help with that.” Óin wrapped the white fabric around Ori’s arm with steady hands. “Let’s get him into the bedroom. We need to keep his arm elevated.”

Thorin went to lift Ori by the shoulders, while Nori took his legs. Together they carried him into the bedroom, with Óin holding the door open and Dori trailing behind them.

That left Bilbo standing alone in the space, which reeked of blood. Needing something to do with his hands, he put the bandages back and grabbed another couple of towels. He wiped up the rest of the blood on the table and deposited the soiled cloth in a plastic bag.

A sharp knock on the outer door made him jump. He looked towards the front of the vehicle with wide eyes, where Bombur was turned around in the driver’s seat.

“We should be safe from the herd for now,” he said. “Is Ori…?”

“I-I don’t know,” Bilbo managed. He walked towards the door, his movements almost automatic, and opened it.

They’d stopped at a gas station. The two cars were parked just ahead, but everyone had gotten out and was crowded around the RV.

Balin held out a steadying hand as Bilbo stumbled down the stairs and onto the pavement. “What happened, lad?”

“Ori,” he said, and took a deep breath. He felt light-headed. “H-He got bit on the hand, and…”

A distressed murmur went through the group.

“Well, how is he?” Bofur asked.

“He’s bit?” Kíli’s voice sounded from somewhere between the taller adults. “Mom, Mom does that mean—”

“Can we see him?” Víli stepped forward.

“Hey, give him some room.” Brana moved in front of him, shooing the others away, and directed Bilbo to sit on the steps. She knelt down in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo whispered, and the first tears began to fall.

She pulled him close, and as sobs racked his body, he realized belatedly that he’d gotten blood on the back of her shirt.

* * *

 

The setting sun cast the shadows of the trees and the cars in long black smears across the pavement. Thorin barely noticed any of it, his gaze focused on the patches of blood staining his hands.

He’d seen men die before, had the blood of others well up beneath his fingers. He’d seen gunfire and dust and, against all odds, survived with his body intact. But there had been a new horror in seeing someone as innocent as Ori suffer through that kind of pain, feeling his weak muscles strain under his hands as he fought against an agony that none of them could imagine.

And beneath it all had been the dreaded realization that it could have been him in Ori’s place, if the turn of events had been different.

Something white flashed in the corner of his vision, and he looked up to see Bilbo offering him a damp cloth. His gaze was focused on the distance, his face pale and drawn.

Thorin accepted the cloth and began cleaning his hands. Bilbo sat next to him on the hood of his car with a sigh.

They sat in silence for a long while. The others were either in the RV with Ori, who hadn’t woken up yet, or inside the small gas station store. He knew he owed Bilbo an apology, and wished they didn’t have to keep doing this. He wanted to understand him, to work with him so they could both keep the group safe.

“You were right,” he said finally. “You saved my life, back there.”

Bilbo half-glanced towards him, not quite meeting his eyes, and nodded. His admission wasn’t a victory, not after all today had cost them.

He turned his forearm, looking at the purple bruise the walker’s teeth had left on his skin. “I thought I would have been able to do it. To...To make a sacrifice like that for the sake of the group.”

“But you didn’t have to.” Bilbo laid a hand on his arm, over the bruise. His palm was warm, traces of blood still visible under his nails. “Look, I-I meant what I said before. We’re all here, doing this together. We all protect each other in...in what ways we can.”

He took his hand away, and Thorin resisted the urge to reach out and keep it there. Bilbo had an undeniable comforting presence about him, a warm blend of kindness and optimism, and he felt himself leaning into it at the moment.

“And that means trusting each other.” Bilbo gave him a meaningful look. “Trusting that we know what we’re doing.”

Thorin nodded, lowering his gaze to the pavement. If there was one thing today had taught him, it was that none of them would be able to brave this road alone.

“And speaking of…” He shifted a little. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I learned while we were in Rivendell.”

* * *

 

“Well, another one bites the dust.” Víli stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at the open front of the RV.

Thorin ran a hand over his beard. “You’re sure?”

Next to him, Glóin tapped a wrench against her thigh. “Yep. This thing is toast.”

He muttered a curse under his breath. “Alright. Let’s get everyone off, start loading things into the car.”

“Thorin, we can’t fit seventeen people into two cars.”

Glóin was right. No matter which way he turned it, if the RV broke down, then the rest of their cars were useless. They would have to continue on foot, down the stretch of wooded highway where they’d been forced to stop.

“Nori,” he said, nodding to him as he stepped out of the RV.

“Thing’s broken, huh?” He slapped the side of the vehicle.

“How’s your brother?” Thorin asked. “Can he walk?”

“He should be able to,” Nori said, his expression dimming slightly. “Might have to take a few breaks, though.”

Ori had woken up a couple of days ago, and had stayed weak and withdrawn, though he hadn’t been lacking in comfort or care during that time. Dori had constantly been on call for anything his brother might have needed, and Nori had done his best to entertain him as well. Bilbo sat and read to him occasionally, and Fíli and Kíli had made a get well card out of some scrap paper.

“Let’s start taking the supplies out, then. We’ll try and divide up the weight between those who can carry it.” With that, he went to relay the message to everyone in the cars.

He returned to find Nori helping Ori out of the RV, the latter’s face pale as he descended the steps. The remainder of his arm was still swathed in white bandages, and his sleeve was rolled up so it wouldn’t get in the way.

Thorin made his way to the door, meaning to look around and see how much of their supplies they needed to carry, and stepped out of the way as Bombur climbed out. Brana followed him, but she swayed on the last step and fell forward with a gasp. Thorin’s hands shot out to steady her.

“Are you alright?” As he pulled back to look at her, he noticed a thin sheen of sweat across her forehead.

Brana nodded, not meeting his eyes. A moment later, Glóin was at her side, looking her over. She nodded to Thorin as if to say,  _ I got this _ .

He frowned inwardly, sensing there was more to the situation than the two of them were letting on, but decided that could be addressed later. He let her go and climbed into the RV to look over their supplies.

Their main problem turned out to be not how many supplies they had to carry, but the containers in which to carry them. Looking back, it had been an oversight on his part not to start looking for backpacks and other bags in case they were forced to walk for whatever reason. 

In the end, they managed to improvise with garbage bags and tied up clothing, with the unspoken promise that they would keep an eye out for more conventional bags along the way.

And with one last glance at the abandoned vehicles, they started walking down the road.

“Are you sure you’ve got that?” Thorin asked as he watched Balin adjust the straps of his pack with a slight grimace.

“Of course I do,” he said with a reproachful glance. “I’m not that old yet.”

“Still,” he said, glancing around at their group. “I’d rather not push anyone too hard.” They had children in their group, along with a few elderly people and now someone recovering from an amputation. He would have to be mindful, from now on, of the limitations of the group.

He wondered briefly how things would have been different if it had been just him, Dwalin, Glóin, and Bifur—people who had served before, who knew how to survive and were used to harsh conditions. They would have been able to cover more ground, watch each other’s backs against walkers. Perhaps just the four of them would have been able to carve out a sense of security in this new world.

But it was enough to know that Fíli and Kíli were safe and with their parents, that Ori had the support of his brothers despite all that happened. The whole of their group made it possible to have something more, to have something of a home wherever they chose to look for it. Thorin found his gaze lingering on Bilbo, who was walking ahead of him.

No, their current group was more than enough.

They stopped before the sun went down, at Dori’s insistence once Ori’s footsteps began to falter. Brana also looked rather ill as they settled down in the woods next to the road, but he trusted Glóin and her brother to take care of her.

Balin settled down on a fallen log with a sigh, rubbing at his knee, though he stopped and shook his head when he noticed him looking. Thorin said nothing and moved on, making a quick scan of their perimeter to make sure there was nothing dangerous nearby.

Dwalin had suggested they continue using one or both of the cars, either to scout ahead or carry those like Ori who would have trouble walking long distances. But others in their group had quickly shut down the idea. There were too many risks involved in splitting their group like that, especially if they didn’t have a home base of sorts to return to.

“Uncle Thorin.”

He looked down to find Fíli stepping over a fallen branch on his way towards him. He stopped and looked up at him, eyes bright.

“I wanna go on watch tonight.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the statement. “Why?”

“‘Cause everyone else gets to do it except me and Kíli.” He shrugged, almost defensively. “I just have to sit and look out for stuff, right?”

He opened his mouth, trying to think of a reason to argue with him, but he couldn’t think of much. Eventually Fíli would need to learn how to protect himself and others. The only reason why he hadn’t started to teach him how to use a gun was that he knew Dís would probably strangle him in his sleep.

“Fine. If your mother agrees, you can stay on watch with me tonight.”

“Okay!” Fíli beamed and made a beeline for Dís.

His cheer was infectious, and the rest of the group talked and laughed as they ate dinner around a small fire. Though beneath it all was a buzzing layer of tension—this was their first time sleeping completely unprotected, without any buildings or vehicles to provide shelter if something went wrong. Thorin posted himself at one corner of the camp, with Víli, Óin, and Bofur standing around the perimeter as well. The dark of the forest made him uneasy, each movement of a branch or snap of a twig carrying the threat of an approaching walker. But it wouldn’t make sense for them to camp on the road, where another car could bear down on them before they had the chance to move.

He kept himself vigilant, though he did spare a glance behind as Brana said, “There’s, um, something I need to say.” The clearing fell quiet as they all looked at her expectantly.

She stayed seated, hands knotted in her lap, and Glóin put a protective hand on her back. Thorin guessed this had something to do with her episode earlier that day, and frowned inwardly as the silence began to close in.

“I’ve known about this for a few weeks,” she continued. “And I wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing before telling the rest of you.” Brana took a deep breath. “Well, I’m pregnant. And I’m going to keep it.”

No one said anything for a long moment. Glóin was searching everyone’s faces, as though daring someone to challenge what had just been said. Dori’s lips were pressed tightly together, though he said nothing.

“So, have you started thinking of baby names?” Bofur asked, and this prompted a few chuckles.

“We’re not quite there yet,” Brana said with a slight smile. “But we’re open to suggestions.”

“We’re gonna have a cousin!” Kíli ran to her and bent down. “Can I hear it kick?”

Everyone laughed at that, and the tension eased somewhat as everyone began talking once more. Bilbo was smiling, the fire bringing out the copper in his curly hair, and Thorin reminded himself that he was supposed to be on watch.

As he turned back to the darkened trees, he let worry fall over his brow. They would do everything they could do protect Brana and her child, but having a baby in their group would exponentially increase their risk of being found by walkers or others.

They needed to find a shelter, a place to call home—and soon.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, guys. That was...not fun to write. Next chapter will be a little fluffier to make up for it. And updates might be a little slower from now on, since I started working again and I sprained my ankle and I have to get my wisdom teeth out soon. But I'll try my best to keep the regular schedule.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 

Bilbo brushed aside a leaf with the back of his hand and inspected the tomato behind it. The branch was practically drooping with the weight of the ripe fruit. He plucked it off and swiped a thumb over the smooth red surface. The garden of the abandoned house was on its way to being choked with weeds, but a few of the plants were still ready to be harvested. With a considering hum, he popped it into his mouth.

“Eew!” Kíli, who had been idly playing with a soccer ball in the backyard, made a face. “Why’d you just eat that?”

He swallowed and put his hands on his hips. “It’s a tomato! Just because  _ some of us _ don’t like fruits and vegetables doesn’t mean they don’t taste good.”

Kíli dropped the ball and went to inspect the garden with him. “What if there are worms inside of them?”

“Well, then, that’s just a bit of extra protein,” Bilbo ruffled his hair with a smile, and laughed as he darted away with a disgusted noise. Still chuckling, he took a plastic bag from his pack and began filling it with tomatoes and cucumbers.

They’d found a small farmhouse on the side of the road and decided to take a look around. Most of the group was looking around inside, and Dwalin and Víli had gone around front to see if any of the vehicles were working.

“Find anything good?” Brana asked, striding out of the house. She already had a baby bump, and despite Glóin and Óin’s pestering, she refused to stay seated for long.

Bilbo held up his bag. “Just some vegetables. Gotta stay healthy, right? Especially you.” He nodded at her stomach.

“Of course,” she said with a slight smile. “I’m thinking we’ll need to find a store soon, start gathering supplies.”

“What kind of supplies are you thinking?” he asked, placing the last of the tomatoes in the bag and standing up.

“Vitamins, painkillers, any medical supplies Óin might need. And some new jeans before I bust out of these.” She shrugged. “And this might be thinking too far ahead, but we should probably start looking for formula, too.”

“Right.” He let out a small laugh. “Formula, and a crib, and diapers… I don’t think I’ve fully wrapped my head around it, that we’re going to have a baby in the group soon.”

“Not sure I’ve wrapped my head around it, either.” Brana placed a hand on her stomach. “Keeps me up at night sometimes.”

Kíli returned from around the corner, trying with concentrated effort to push a scooter through the grass. He eventually gave up and left it on the ground, then jogged the rest of the way to the garden. “Are you gonna have a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Won’t know until the baby comes out.”

“I hope it’s a boy. I need someone on my team for Smash Bros, ‘cause Fíli always beats me.”

Brana smiled. “If it’s a girl, I’m sure she’d still play Smash with you.”

“Hang on, what is...Smash Bros?” Bilbo looked back and forth between the two of them. Though Fíli and Kíli could get rather rough at times, he cringed at the thought of them hitting each other hard enough to be considered  _ smashing _ .

“It’s just a video game.” Her smile grew wider. “They’re not actually hitting each other.”

“Oh.” He let out a sigh of relief. 

Kíli ran over and grabbed his hand. “Hey, you can be on my team! You’re a grownup, so Fíli will have no chance.”

“Um, all right.” He’d always been more of a bookish person, and didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about playing a video game, but it couldn’t be that hard if Fíli and Kíli had some skill in it. “Well, next time we look for supplies, maybe we can look around for some games.”

“Okay!” Kíli grinned and raced towards the house, nearly knocking into Thorin as he stepped outside. “Hey, Fíli! Bilbo just said…”

“Are you both ready?” Thorin asked, walking towards them. “We’re moving on.”

“Let me just grab my things from inside.” Brana headed for the door.

Bilbo knelt down to put the bag of vegetables inside his pack. “I picked some stuff from the garden. It’s not much, but it’s fresh food.”

“That’s good,” Thorin said, stepping closer. “We didn’t find much inside.”

“Maybe we’ll have better luck in the next town.” He stood up and adjusted the straps on his shoulders.

He glanced back at the house as more people stepped outside. “He looks up to you. Kíli.”

“Oh. Well.” Bilbo felt a blush stain his cheeks. “He has quite a few people to look up to.” Sometimes he wondered what it was doing to the boys, to be the only children in a group of adults. He didn’t want them to grow up too fast, forget to be children—though something like that was hard to avoid given the current state of the world.

Thorin was looking at him with a slight smile, and he gestured with his chin for them to start walking towards the road. “The benefits of being an uncle. You get to do all the fun things with them while Dís and Víli are stuck with the actual parenting.”

He chuckled as he fell into stride next to him. “I’m sure that must be nice.”

“You know that goes for you, too.” Thorin’s expression was serious, now. “We consider you part of the family.”

For a moment, Bilbo was speechless. This wasn’t a surprise, exactly—he’d known for quite some time that he considered the group a family of sorts, that he loved Fíli and Kíli as he would his own nephews. But to hear it spoken out loud, and from Thorin of all people, created a burst of warmth in his chest.

“Well, um.” He looked away so he could discreetly blink back tears. “I do feel the same, about all of you.”

Thorin reached over to briefly squeeze his shoulder, and Bilbo couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as they walked down the road together.

* * *

 

It was a relief when they finally came across another sign of civilization. The farmland had stretched out for a few days, which had then turned into a forest that seemed to go on forever, and that had been enough to deplete their food supplies to worrying levels.

The road finally led them to a small town, and they’d made a beeline for the strip mall on the right. However, a strange sight caused them all to stop just on the side of the road.

A chain link fence had been set up around the perimeter of the parking lot, and inside were a number of green canvas tents. Bilbo could spot a few trucks of the same color as well. And, of course, no one could miss the dark splotches of blood in a couple spots on the pavement.

“Spread out, but stay within shouting distance, alright?” Thorin said to the group. He nudged open the chain link gate with his rifle and led the way inside.

“Can I come?” Fíli asked Dís as the others followed Thorin through the gate. “I can stay close. And I can help look for supplies.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Dís shook her head. “Go wait with your father.” She gestured with her head towards where Víli was standing with Kíli.

“But I can help.” Fíli turned to Bilbo. “Can I go with you?”

“Well—” Bilbo stammered, caught off guard by the question. “Your mother is right. It’s not safe. We’ll certainly be fine without your help.”

Scowling, Fíli stalked off without another word. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dís flash him a hurt look.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to...I mean, I didn’t know he would…”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her expression clearing somewhat. “Kíli tries that stuff with Víli and I all the time.” She nudged him with her elbow. “But thanks for taking my side.”

Dwalin stepped up beside them, and Bilbo realized they were the last ones outside the fence, besides the boys, Víli, and Ori. “You’re going to have to give him a chance eventually.”

Dís shot him a glare, and Bilbo was mildly surprised that Dwalin’s eyebrows didn’t catch fire from the heat of it. “I am not giving my twelve-year-old son a gun.”

“One day he might need it.” With a shrug, Dwalin walked through the gate.

“I’ve heard him express things like that before. Carrying a weapon, protecting the group,” Bilbo said as they followed him inside and drew their weapons. He thought back to the dart gun Fíli had carried around with him initially, though he had eventually lost all of the foam bullets. “But I suppose he’s only got a certain image in his head, of the heroism of…” he gestured at the gun in his hand, “and not all the horrible things that can come from it.”

She nodded. “He’s always wanted to protect other people. I can’t imagine how he must have felt when it was just him and Kíli.” She glanced back towards the fence. “But I just want them to...stay kids, you know? While they can.”

Bilbo gave a rueful smile. “I know what you mean.”

They walked into the department store, which was only dimly lit by the light shining through the glass doors.

Dís nudged him again. “I’m gonna go find Brana, help her pick out some clothes and medicine. You’ll be alright by yourself?”

“Of course. Good luck.”

With that, they set off in opposite directions, with Dís heading towards the health section and Bilbo going to grab a wire basket. He knew the others would have the search for food covered, as he could already see the glare of their flashlights by the grocery section, and decided to see to some of the less necessary supplies. He thought the group could use a bit of a morale boost after the last few days.

Board games were out of the question, since they were too bulky to carry around. He briefly considered the action figures, since Kíli had been talking about Captain something or other, but the section was in such a disarray that he didn’t even know where to start.

A low crackle sounded down the aisle, making him tense. Holding his gun out in front of him, Bilbo crept towards the source of the noise. He rounded the corner quickly, ready to shoot, and caught a glimpse of Bofur’s face before the illumination of his flashlight filled his vision.

“Shit,” Bofur said. “You’re unbelievably quiet, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Bilbo said, blinking rapidly. “Mind getting that thing out of my face?”

“Right.” He lowered the light, and Bilbo waited for the white spots in his vision to disappear. “You find anything good?”

“Not yet. You?”

“Found this.” Bofur lifted a blue baseball cap and slapped it onto his own hat. “What do you think?”

Bilbo snorted a laugh. “I think you look ridiculous.”

“Really?” He picked up a cowboy hat and placed it onto the stack. “I think I’m onto something, here.”

“You are a true pioneer of post-apocalyptic fashion. All you need now is a fedora.”

“You’re absolutely right. I can’t believe I forgot.” Bofur bowed to him, using one hand to keep his hats on, then walked away.

Shaking his head with a smile, Bilbo continued on. He made his way towards the video game section, wondering if he could find the Crash game that Kíli wanted (though it wouldn’t do them much good without power), when something knocked against his foot. He looked down to find an instant camera, still in its package with extra batteries and rolls of film.

He picked it up, considering. Ori’s health had improved somewhat in the past few days, but he’d been struggling with his sketchbook. He’d lost his dominant hand, and the drawing that had once been so beautifully detailed were shaky and quickly crumpled up. There was nothing Bilbo could do to help with that, but perhaps he would appreciate the camera.

The rest of the toy section didn’t have much, though he did look for a long while at the shelf of baby toys. That seemed a bit too premature, though, and they didn’t need to be carrying unnecessary things anyway.

The rest of the group was waiting just outside when he walked through the doors, camera in hand. Brana had a couple items of clothing slung over one arm, and Glóin and Bifur were both carrying plastic baskets half-filled with food.

Bilbo looked over everyone’s faces, noticing for the first time the unhappy atmosphere. “Is...Is that it?”

“We’ll keep looking.” Thorin began walking away from the store, gesturing to one of the green tents as he walked. “The military must have cleared this place out.”

With that, they all left the parking lot, the chilly breeze bringing the first warnings of winter.

* * *

 

Thorin set his pack down against a tree and paused, noting the slight tremor in his hand. He turned to look at the rest of the group, scattered about the clearing where they’d chose to make camp. They were all dirty and exhausted and incredibly hungry.

Bofur went to work setting up their security system, which consisted of a roll of string and several empty cans. He threaded the cans on the string and began tying them around the trees. Any disturbance to the tripwire of sorts would alert them of walkers nearby. Thorin still had people sit on watch, but it didn’t hurt to have an extra security measure.

Kíli tugged on his mother’s arm. “Mom, I’m hungry.”

Dís looked to him. “How are we doing on food?”

“I’ll let you know.” Thorin walked over to Bifur, who was carrying most of their rations. It helped to have it in one place, to more easily figure out how to divvy up what little they had left.

Bifur saw him coming and knelt down to open his pack. They peered inside together and groaned in unison.

“Thought it was getting lighter,” Bifur said. “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”

They had two cans of beans left, five granola bars, and half a package of stale crackers. It wasn’t enough for seventeen people, and hadn’t been for a while. Most of them had been going entire days without any food, and Dori had nearly passed out the previous day. Everyone suspected most of his rations had been going to his youngest brother.

“We can give a couple of granola bars to the boys, another to Ori,” Thorin said. “We can give half a can to Brana tonight, save the rest for tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Bifur let out a low chuckle. “Remember how we were stressin’ about the food back at the motel? Seems like a feast now.”

Thorin grunted in agreement. He still sometimes wished they would have been able to stay at the motel, but they would have run out of food eventually and been forced to move on. Bilbo had had the right idea with the orchard—they needed somewhere sustainable.

Bifur went to pass out the food, and Thorin sat against a nearby tree, feeling a little light-headed himself. The hunger had been a near-constant presence, only drowned out by the anxiety gnawing at the back of his mind. There was no way to tell if they were just having bad luck or if every store for fifty miles had been cleared out. It terrified him to think they would start losing people before ( _ if _ ) they found more food.

Dís flopped down next to him, shaking him from his thoughts. “If I told you I was pregnant, would you let me split that can of beans with Brana?”

Thorin sent her a deadpan stare, and was met with a pleading expression that, under normal circumstances, would have convinced him to do just about anything. “Are you?”

“Nah. But I’ve been craving yogurt all day.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find that any time soon.”

He frowned, turning back to the campsite. Even if they did manage to find a way to grow or make their own food, there were too many things that could go wrong. None of them were farmers. Bilbo, at least, knew something about gardening. He glanced over to where he was sitting with Ori, his curly hair stuck to his forehead with sweat after the long day’s walk.

They needed him if they were going to grow their own food, they needed Óin in case someone got sick or injured, they needed to keep the boys alive and make sure Brana was able to take care of her baby, and it was possible the rest of them would have to go hungry to make that happen.

He loathed having to decide which of their lives had more value over the other, even if it was something as small as choosing who was able to eat that night. He’d been looking at the situation in black and white for far too long, had let himself believe that they would all make it through, or none of them would. But if he had to choose one life over another—

Dís elbowed him in the side. “Stop it.”

Thorin turned and shot her a glare. “What?”

“You’re doing that thing again.” She nudged him more gently. “You just sit there worrying and twist yourself up into a knot, and then the first person who talks to you gets their head bitten off.”

“Well, there’s a lot to worry about.” He rested his forearms against his knees. “And I don’t...bite people’s heads off.”

Dís gave a noncommittal hum. “You’d make a good walker.”

“Shut up.” He shook his head, smiling slightly as she snickered.

“Look, things could be a lot worse. Find something that makes you happy and try and enjoy yourself. Save your worrying energy for some actual crisis management.” She looked around the camp. “God, Kíli had granola all over his face. I’ll be back.” She stood up and walked away.

_ Find something that makes you happy _ . Thorin glanced down at his dirt-smeared knuckles. The thought had barely crossed his mind, he’d been so focused on taking care of the group. He looked up again, over to where Bilbo was helping Ori with his instant camera. His brow was furrowed with concentration as he studied the device, though a small smile lifted his lips as he muttered something to Ori.

Bilbo glanced up, meeting Thorin’s eyes from across the clearing. His heart skipped a beat as he realized he’d been caught staring, and he looked away.

The clatter of metal cut through the air, and everyone froze. Before the noise had even died down, the growls of a walker became audible.

“I’m on it.” Víli strode towards the noise, taking out his knife.

Thorin pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself against the tree as white sparks showered his vision. When he’d steadied himself, he followed Víli to find that he’d already stabbed the walker in the head and thrown it to the ground. Three more, however, were staggering through the trees.

“I’ll go around,” Thorin said, and drew his own knife.

He circled towards the back of the small group, keeping alert for any more that might be wandering through the trees. He took out the one in the back, then the next just as Víli finished off the last one.

“These look pretty fresh,” Víli said with a frown, nudging one with his foot.

“Something must have killed them recently.” Thorin looked up at him. “Let’s sweep the perimeter. I want to make sure there’s nothing dangerous out there.”

“Alright.” He darted briefly back into camp to let the others know where they were going, then the two of them set off. They walked for a while in the direction the walkers had come, hoping it would potentially lead them to whatever had killed them, though the dead were hardly known for walking in straight lines.

“I didn’t see any bites on them, either,” Víli said. “Just bullet, or maybe knife wounds. They were probably killed by other people.”

“Let’s turn the flashlights off. If that’s true, I don’t want anyone to know we’re coming.”

They crept through the brush, ears straining to hear anything that might indicate a walker or otherwise. Up ahead, a broad gray shape was visible through the trees, and Thorin motioned for Víli to slow down.

They drew their guns and moved to the edge of the trees. A large building, probably some sort of warehouse, was set about twenty feet ahead, off the road they’d been walking down earlier that day. They circled around to look at the entrance, and found a strange sight.

The front doors had been barricaded by a set of wooden structures, the ends of which had been sharpened into spikes. A couple of walkers had been impaled on them, and clawed at the wood ineffectually as they struggled to move. Between the two structures was a long smear of blood, as though something dead or dying had been dragged outside.

“Now that,” Víli said, “is definitely worth looking into.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in updates...long story short, I got into a car accident, had strep throat, and got my wisdom teeth out all in the same week, and my job's turnover rate is shit so they've been dumping a lot of work on me. (I'm actually heading to work in half an hour so maybe I'll have some nice comments to read during my break?) But I promise I plan to finish this story, and god dammit I will. Eventually.
> 
> Anyway, my plan if a zombie apocalypse ever does go down is to hide in a Costco or something. If I get there early enough, they're bound to have plenty of supplies and few enough exits that it would be pretty easy to defend. (Because that's definitely a normal thing to think about.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 

Stepping carefully through the underbrush, Bilbo made his way to where Dwalin and Víli were crouched at the edge of the forest.

Thorin was right beside him, and he crouched down as well. “Anything?”

Dwalin lowered his binoculars. “Nothing. But that doesn’t mean much.”

They’d been staking out the building for the past day, waiting to see if there was anyone inside.

“I know this place,” Bilbo said. “Greenwood Wholesale. They sell things in bulk. You think there are still supplies in there?”

“Well, they’re protecting something,” Thorin said, gesturing to the sharp wooden structures standing sentinel outside the doors. Bilbo grimaced at the spikes darkened with blood—it looked like something out of a medieval history book.

“We should make a move soon,” Dwalin said, “or we’ll all starve to death out there.”

“Couldn’t we, I don’t know, draw them out or something?” Bilbo suggested. The others turned to him with questioning glances. “I mean, we could set off a car alarm or something. If someone comes to check on it, then we’ll have a better idea of who we’re dealing with.”

“I’d rather not do anything that would give ourselves away,” Thorin said. “A car alarm would attract more walkers, too.”

“Right.” His stomach cramped, and he suppressed a wince. It was hard to think for long about anything that wasn’t food.

“We’ll see if there’s a back entrance that’s open, send a small group to look around. And if there’s anyone inside…” He paused, the furrow in his brow deepening. “We’ll find a way to deal with it.”

Bilbo rubbed the slight chill that spread on his arms. Had it really come to this, where they would possibly have to kill for their next meal?

He walked back to camp with Thorin, where everyone was sitting in near silence. Their collective hunger had sapped the group of their energy.

But Thorin still looked confident and collected as ever as he said, “Nori, we need you. Glóin, you too.” He turned to look at him. “Bilbo, you’re pretty light on your feet. Come with us.”

“Alright.” Trying to hide the burst of heat on his cheeks, he followed the other three back towards the warehouse. He wasn’t sure why Thorin had chosen him specifically to come along, but it was nice to know that he trusted him enough to offer. He’d come a long way from making snide comments about his survival skills. 

After signaling to Dwalin and Víli, they circled around to the back of the building, where the loading bays were. There were three large sliding doors, all of them shut. After scanning the area, Thorin motioned them to cross the pavement.

Bilbo could feel his heart pounding as they ran to the building. It felt a bit like they were on some sort of covert mission, and he would have been rather thrilled by the idea if he wasn’t starving.

Glóin and Thorin took up positions on either side of the door and began lifting it, slowly so that it wouldn’t creak too loudly.

“Damn, this thing is heavy.” Glóin adjusted her grip with a wince. “Nori, you feel like helping?”

“Right.” He stepped up and added his own strength to pushing the door up.

“Bilbo.” Thorin gestured with his head to the two-foot opening they’d created. “Take a look inside.”

“Okay.” He reminded himself to stop staring at the defined muscles in his arms and moved towards the door. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the small concrete ledge below the door. The interior was dark, and even the sunlight coming through didn’t illuminate much. “I can’t see anything. I’m gonna crawl inside.”

“Be careful.”

Bilbo lifted himself up onto the ledge, using the door to keep his balance, and ducked inside. He squinted and waited for his eyes to adjust. There was a set of double doors to the left, and faint light was shining through. He scanned the rest of the room, taking in the shelves filled with packages, a machine used for lifting heavy objects, a pair of shoes shuffling towards him—

The walker fell onto him with a growl, one cold hand wrapping around his arm. Bilbo yelled and pressed a hand against its head before it could sink its teeth into his flesh. He tried desperately to pull away so he could reach for his knife, but its grip was too tight.

Another pair of hands wrapped around his ankles and pulled him back outside. The garage door slammed shut, and a moment later he hit the ground with a wince, the walker still clinging to him. It tried again to bite him, but Nori’s foot slammed into the side of its head, finally forcing it off of him. Nori leapt over him, stomping on the walker’s skull until it was nothing but a mess of blood.

Thorin knelt down next to him, gripping his upper arms. “Are you alright? Are you bit?”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo gasped. His heart was thundering in his chest, and it took a minute for him to catch his breath. “I-I’m fine.”

For a moment, Thorin looked as if he wanted to pull him closer, but he released his arms and sat back on one heel, surveying the carnage.

The cloying smell of blood hit his nose, and as Bilbo looked around, he realized only half the walker had followed him outside. The garage door must have slammed down onto it and cut it in half. A thick trail of sticky blood was dripping down the concrete, and Bilbo noticed with a grimace that there were splotches of dark red on his pants.

“This one looks pretty fresh, too.” Nori nudged the walker’s arm, indicating the lack of decay on the skin.

“There probably isn’t anyone inside.” Glóin brushed her hands off. “Living, that is. Can’t think of a reason why anyone would want to keep walkers in their backroom.” They all tensed as the metal rattled, and the growls of a walker were audible on the other side.

“Unless it was meant as a trap.” Thorin stood. “And they would have heard us by now.”

“So much for being light on my feet,” Bilbo grumbled. He stood up as well and took a step away from the walker.

“What now?” Glóin turned to Thorin. “We wait for whoever’s inside to attack?”

Thorin looked at the closed garage door for a long while. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and Bilbo didn’t miss the slight tremor in the hand resting on his gun. But beneath it all was that steely determination that had gotten them this far, even as tension tightened on his brow.

“No. We wait any longer, we’ll be too weak to defend ourselves.” He took a step forward. “We go in through the back door, and we take this place.”

Nori and Glóin exchanged a glance, then nodded. Bilbo drew his own gun and let out a shaky sigh. This was Thorin’s call, and he knew it was the right one. He only hoped they wouldn’t find more than the dead inside.

“I’ll go first, then.” Nori drew his knife and readied himself as Glóin and Thorin pushed the door open again. Bilbo went to help them, avoiding the blood still slicking the concrete ledge.

The walker on the other side let out a snarl and knelt down to try and crawl through the opening. Nori put his knife through its skull and shimmied through the narrow opening. They hear the  _ click  _ of his flashlight turning on, and a moment later, he called, “It’s clear.”

“Glóin, you go,” Thorin said, gritting his teeth as he strained to keep the door up.

Once Nori had a grip on it from the inside, Glóin let go and crawled inside as well.

“Bilbo. Get in there and keep a lookout.”

“Alright.” He hoisted himself through the gap and picked up Nori’s flashlight from where it was lying on the ground. As Nori and Glóin held the door so Thorin could get through, he scanned the dim interior of the backroom. Nothing moved, though he did tense up whenever the light bounced off the shiny surface of plastic wrap or a piece of metal. In the dark, they looked too much like glinting eyes.

Once everyone was inside, they lowered the door as quietly as they could and looked around. The backroom remained eerily silent.

“We move through together,” Thorin said lowly. “Stay alert.”

They continued around the perimeter, past cardboard boxes and metal racks. Those supplies alone could have fed them for weeks. Bilbo caught sight of a half-eaten package of cookies lying on one of the boxes—further evidence that people had lived here recently. He couldn’t help but worry that whatever had killed the store’s previous inhabitants would threaten their group as well.

The backroom, at least, was empty. They ended up back where they’d started and headed for the double doors leading to the rest of the store. Thorin pushed one open with the barrel of his gun and led the way through.

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” Nori whispered.

Bilbo was the last to go through, and his eyes widened as he looked around. Even if the place hadn’t been illuminated by a number of skylights in the ceiling, it would have been clear that the place hadn’t been raided like the others they’d seen. The shelves were full—of food, water, appliances, office supplies. There were racks of clothing along one wall and a display of patio furniture along another.

If someone had turned the lights on, the place would have looked...normal.

“Let’s stay focused,” Thorin said, and they all shook themselves from their awe. If they wanted this place for their group, they would have to earn it. “We’ll split up. Glóin and I will take this half.”

The two of them went to search the clothing section while Bilbo and Nori headed for the food. The tall metal shelves stretched more than thirty feet high, and made the cavernous space feel more narrow and cramped.

“We could feed ourselves for months, here,” Bilbo whispered, letting Nori take the lead.

“Years, if we ration it right.” Nori checked both sides as they reached an intersection, then motioned for him to continue. “I’m guessing those assholes outside had a similar idea.”

“What do you think happened to them?” he asked, bracing himself for another one of Nori’s crazy theories.

“They probably killed each other. Most of them died by knife wounds, bullet wounds. Maybe they got sick of each other, wanted most of the supplies for themselves.”

Bilbo let out a small hum. That sounded reasonable, though he had no fear that something like that would happen to their group. They were too close for something like that, whatever disagreements they had in between.

Something moved in his periphery, up above, but when he shined his flashlight up at the higher levels of the shelves, he couldn’t see anything.

“Who are you looking for up there?” Nori asked. “Spider-Man?”

He let out a small grumble and lowered his flashlight. “It was probably nothing.”

They continued on, occasionally spotting the glare of Glóin’s flashlight on the other side of the store.

While Nori was checking the next aisle, Bilbo paused next to a ripped open box of packaged chips. The plastic bags were spilled out of the hole like a gutted animal, but the sight only made his mouth water. Surely no one would mind if he took a quick bite...

Behind him, a low  _ thud _ sounded, like someone had fallen down. Bilbo turned around in time to see a pair of watery eyes glaring right behind him, just before a fist cracked across his face. His gun clattered from his hand before he could even raise it.

“Shit!” Nori shouted.

Eyes watering, Bilbo tried to stand up, but a bony arm wrapped around his neck, and he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple.

“Stay back!” cried the person holding him, the reedy voice sounding just behind his ear. “Just stay, stay back!”

Nori was standing a few feet away, his gun aimed at the two of them. “Steady, now.”

Bilbo swallowed hard as the man’s arm tightened around his neck. “They’re all dead,” the man said, breathing hard. “Dead and gone. I thought I was alone in here.”

“We were just looking around.” Nori shifted his weight as if he wanted to move closer. “Didn’t know anyone was inside. Alive, that is. Now, you mind letting go of my friend?”

The man stepped back, dragging Bilbo with him. “Y-You’ll shoot me. I know you. I know what you’re like.”

His heart pounding, Bilbo glanced towards the other side of the store. He couldn’t see Glóin’s light, and hoped the two of them had heard something and were coming to help, though he didn’t know what they’d be able to do.

“I won’t shoot.” Nori reluctantly lowered his gun to the ground and held out his hands in surrender. “Just calm down.”

The man let out a rasping cough, and Bilbo winced as some flecks of spit landed on his ear. He could feel him shaking—he was afraid, and had every right to be. After what had happened to the world, maybe the most sane thing to do was go insane.

“Listen,” Bilbo said, speaking softly and trying to control the tremor in his voice. “We don’t want to hurt you—”

“Wrong!” He tensed, jostling him and pressing the gun into his temple. “They all wanted to. They...They tried to  _ slice _ me open, but I didn’t let them, no, I got away. And now they’re all dead.”

There was genuine fear in his voice, and Bilbo felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. “Look, I know you have no reason to believe us, but we don’t just go around killing random people.” He sent a meaningful glance at Nori.  _ I got this _ . “You don’t need me. You let me go, and you’ll be fine.”

The man was silent for a long while before he said, “You’re lying.”

Bilbo took a deep breath. “I don’t want to die. And I know you don’t want to kill me. If you want to leave this place, if you want to stay here, w-we’ll let you. You don’t need to worry. Right, Nori?”

“Right.” Nori nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the gun in the man’s hand.

“You’d let me...stay here?” A fragile ray of hope entered the man’s voice.

That was a lie. Thorin would never allow it. But he had a gun to his head, so Bilbo hummed an affirmation.

That seemed to be enough. The gun disappeared from his temple, and the arm slid from around his neck. Slowly, Bilbo turned around to get a good look at this attacker.

The man was surprisingly skinny for someone living in a place with so much food. There were yellow sweat stains on his shirt and dried blood underneath his fingernails. He looked at Bilbo with huge, watery blue eyes and for a moment he began to think. Perhaps they could spare the man, give him some rations and send him on his way.

“Bilbo,” Nori hissed, likely wanting him to stand back.

But he could only stand there as the man continued to stare at him. The pistol was still held loosely in his hand, but he didn’t seem to even notice it.

A gunshot cracked across the aisle, and the man was thrown to the side as red bloomed on the side of his head.

Thorin advanced from the end of the aisle, his gun still poised to fire, with Glóin right behind him. “How many more are there?”

Bilbo glanced down at the growing pool of blood on the floor. The man’s limbs were in a disarray, like a doll someone had tossed to the side. “He was the only one,” he said, his voice sounding hollow and distant to his own ears. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself. He couldn’t shut down like he had on the rooftop. “A-At least, he made it sound like it.”

“I dunno.” Nori darted over to pick up his gun. “He sounded kinda crazy to me. I say we finish our sweep.”

“Let’s try to watch each other’s backs, then.” Thorin motioned for them to continue, then glanced at Bilbo. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t feel like it, but he could hold himself together enough to pretend. He’d been the only one to get attacked ( _ twice _ ) during this little mission _ , _ and the last thing he needed was to see that disapproving, dismissive glance of Thorin’s.

They started forward again, and Nori ushered Bilbo towards the center of the group. “That was some smooth talking, back there.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and forced himself not to look back and the man’s bleeding body.

Those eyes, however, glimmered in his vision every time he blinked.

* * *

 

“Then we turn this knob here, see?”

“No, no, the instructions say we don’t do that yet!”

Bilbo shifted his weight with a frown. “I really hope they don’t burn this place down.”

“Eh, even if they do, I’m not moving,” Bifur said with his eyes closed. He was sitting in a black recliner that seemed to be slowly devouring him, one of two that he and Bofur had found somewhere within the store. He turned the handle to prop his feet up and let out a groan of satisfaction.

“Comfy?” Bilbo asked with a slight smile. He turned back to where Nori and Balin were trying to set up a propane grill to heat up some food, though everyone had already eaten their fill in chips and crackers and any other readily accessible food they could find. Kíli walked past, triumphantly holding a worryingly large can of chocolate pudding. Bilbo decided he would leave that to Dís and Víli.

The rest of the store had been clear, and once they’d summoned the rest of the group, Thorin had put most of them to work securing all the exits with makeshift barriers to make sure no one, walkers or otherwise, could get in.

More permanent security measures could wait. They’d all gathered in one section of the store, dragging in various pieces of furniture and food and eating their fill for the first time in weeks. They’d found some battery-powered lanterns to light their little area as well.

A cheer went up as Nori and Balin finally succeeded in turning on the grill. Fíli began dancing around, clicking a pair of metal tongs he’d found somewhere.

Bifur chuckled and stretched. “This reminds me of the old days. Bofur, Bombur and I would put our chairs outside, put the game on and grill some hot dogs.”

“That sounds really nice.” Bilbo smiled. Something like that had seemed so far away for so long. But looking around at them now, he was beginning to feel that that old life—that happy, domestic,  _ safe _ life—was in their grasp again. The thought brought a strange ache to his chest.

They’d all made it this far. And they were incredibly lucky not to have lost anyone along the way...although looking around now, he realized someone was missing.

He did a headcount and frowned. “Where’s Thorin?”

“Thought I saw him head up to the roof.” Bifur chuckled. “He’s probably on watch right now.”

“And knowing him, he probably hasn’t had much to eat, if anything,” Bilbo grumbled, shaking his head. “I’ll be back.”

He walked over to the small pile of food they’d collected from various parts of the store and gathered up a jar of peanut butter, a box of crackers, and a bottle of water. Evidently Thorin was taking his role as the protector of the group a little too seriously—though Bilbo imagined he had probably been prone to overworking himself even before. It probably would have been easy for him to lose track of time, working late into the night with no one to call him to bed…

Bilbo shook away that train of thought before he could get carried away and pushed open the door to the backroom. It took a few minutes of searching, but he eventually found the stairs to the roof and began climbing up.

Thorin was standing at the edge of the roof above the front door, rifle in hand. He turned briefly at the sound of Bilbo’s footsteps, then turned back to the empty parking lot below. They’d all lost weight in the past couple of weeks, but even now Thorin cut an imposing figure above the empty expanse.

“You could take tonight off, you know,” Bilbo said, coming to a stop next to him.

“Someone has to keep watch.” Thorin turned again to give a lingering glance at the food in his arms. “It only takes a second for something to go wrong. If a walker got in, or someone decided to—”

“Alright, I get it.” Bilbo held out the crackers. “Let’s trade, then. I’ll keep watch. You need to eat.”

Thorin hesitated for only a second before holding out the rifle and swapping it for the food. Bilbo took up his position, checking the safety switch, while Thorin sat against the low wall surrounding the edge of the roof and dug in.

The next few minutes passed in silence, except for the quiet sounds of Thorin eating. Bilbo glanced at the empty plastic wrappers gathering on the floor and wondered if he should have brought more food. Though they did have more than plenty downstairs, and wouldn’t be running out anytime soon.

A movement down the street caught his eye. Bilbo frowned and raised the rifle slightly, but it was only a walker. After a few moments, it ambled out of sight.

Now that he was standing with a gun in his hand, he could understand Thorin’s concern. As much as he would have liked to be celebrating downstairs, the truth was that they couldn’t let their guard down just yet. The motel had been taken from them in a matter of minutes, and being forced out of this place would be an even greater loss.

“Thank you.”

Bilbo glanced over as Thorin pushed himself to his feet. “Of course. I wasn’t about to let you starve to death.”

That comment earned a slight chuckle. Thorin reached out to take the rifle back, but when Bilbo kept his grip, he let his hands fall to his sides. “How is everyone else?”

“Good. Relieved, I think.” He sighed. “We really lucked out, finding this place.”

Thorin grunteed in agreement and glanced around. A few crumbs were stuck in his beard, and Bilbo resisted the urge to brush them away. There had been a shortage of razors on the road, and it had grown way past its usual close-cropped look. It made him look a little wild, but still unfairly handsome, and Bilbo had to remind himself that he was supposed to be watching the parking lot.

“We’ll still have to have multiple people on watch with this large of an area,” Thorin said. “We could probably get three, four people to cover each entrance. Might be able to build some small shelters for cover.”

Bilbo smiled at the mental image of the store decorated with guard towers like some sort of medieval castle. “We could get some planters up here, too. Plant some seeds next spring and get some fresh fruits and vegetables.”

“We can make this work,” Thorin said. It was a statement,  not a question, but he still looked at Bilbo as if searching for some sort of confirmation.

“Yes.” He looked up at him. “I think we can.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they had no more problems, the end.
> 
> Just kidding, we're only like halfway through the story at this point. ;) And this place is way too good to be a permanent reward for our heroes. Take that how you will...
> 
> I don't know if non-Americans have wholesale/warehouse stores or know what they are. I think I saw one outside Madrid but I couldn't go in because I didn't have a membership. Anyway, I based this one off of Costco since that's what I'm most familiar with, and I hope it makes sense!
> 
> Also!!! I keep forgetting to mention this but la Dictateuse drew some amazing fan art for this fic, which you can find at sodasacd on tumblr. That stuff is amazing and really made my day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 

When Thorin’s shift on watch ended, he found Ori waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He was holding his instant camera, his near-constant companion now that his sketchbook had been all but discarded. He waited until Thorin had finished his descent and cleared his throat.

“Um, would you mind if I took your picture?”

Thorin blinked at the request. He’d seen Ori take pictures of various plants, the view from the roof, and some members of the group, but he wasn’t sure why he would want one of him specifically.

Ori looked down, tapping the camera with one thumb. “I’m trying to get one of everyone in the group. That way, we’ll all have something to remember each other by. In case...you know.”

Thorin nodded. It was a bittersweet sentiment—he didn’t want to dwell on the possibility that one of them would die, but he supposed it would they would all be grateful for the pictures if the time came. “Go ahead, then.”

He shifted his weight, unsure if he was supposed to pose or smile, but Ori only said, “Hold still.” The camera flashed, though there was enough light coming through the door to the roof to illuminate the area. He pulled out the photo and shook it a few times. “I’m going to give this one to Dís, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” He was sure she would appreciate it, though she’d probably find a way to tease him about it too.

“I also want to talk to you about something.” Ori fell into stride next to him as Thorin began walking towards the front of the store. “I-I want to start helping out more. I’m better now, I don’t need to be sitting around all the time.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. We have more than enough people to get everything done.”

They’d been living in the store for a month, and for the first time in a while they could truly relax. They didn’t need to worry about finding food or planning their route to the next town. Besides guard shifts and the occasional chore, they could spend most of their time relaxing and enjoying each other’s company.

“Well, I still want to do something. Everyone seems to think I’m practically useless. Bofur and Bombur won’t let me near their construction projects, no one will let me touch the laundry, and well, I wasn’t that good of a cook even when I had both my hands.”

Thorin sighed and stopped, turning to face him. “Ori, no one thinks you’re useless. If no one wants you working, there’s plenty of other things to do. You should enjoy it.”

Ori drew himself up to his full height, the set of his jaw bringing out his resemblance to his oldest brother. “Put me on watch, then. I only need one hand to fire a gun.”

He shifted his weight, considering. That was true, and it wouldn’t hurt to have one more person on the rotation. He couldn’t see any real reason not to, except that Dori would probably try and argue with him about it. “You’ll need practice firing with your nondominant hand, though.”

His gaze brightened somewhat. “I have time.”

“Let’s head out now.” Thorin began walking again, leading the way out of the backroom. “We’ll drive a few miles out, get some practice in before the sun goes down.”

They walked over towards their makeshift camp. A few of the shelves had been cleared out, and they’d dragged mattresses under them and strung up sheets to provide a semblance of privacy. Next to their sleeping area, they’d gathered a mismatch of couches and a dining table. The place was starting to look a little more like home.

“Glóin,” Thorin called. “You get that truck working?”

“Yeah, it’s parked out front.” She fished the keys from her pocket and tossed them to him. “Going somewhere?”

“Just taking Ori for some target practice. We shouldn’t be gone long.”

Fíli dropped the book he’d been reading and stood up. “Can I come?”

Dís didn’t even look up from cleaning her own gun. “Fíli, we’ve discussed this. You’re staying here.”

“Why not let him go?” Víli said, making her pause. “It’s not like he’s going to be carrying, but it doesn’t hurt for him to learn. God forbid he’s in a situation where he needs to use one.”

“He’s twelve years old.”

“I’ll be thirteen soon,” Fíli offered, as if that was a point they’d all overlooked.

“He’ll be fine, Dís,” Thorin said. “I’ll teach him how to use a gun safely. Víli’s right—he might need it one day.” He thought back with a slight chill to the night when Kíli had been left behind at the motel. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t guarantee the boys’ safety.

“Why don’t I come, too?” Bofur brushed off the wood carving he’d been working on and stood up. “Can’t hurt to have another pair of eyes.”

Dís finally sighed and said, “Alright. Just...Just be careful. Please.”

Dori jumped up. “I should go as well. You’ll need more than one person on lookout.”

“Well, that’s all we’ll be able to fit in the truck. Let’s go.” Thorin led the other four outside after gathering their weapons. He started the car while Bofur climbed into the passenger seat, and Dori and Ori sat on either side of Fíli in the back.

They hadn’t been on any runs since they’d found the store, but Thorin had still taken a day to walk around the surrounding area, just to see if there was anything dangerous nearby. He hadn’t found much—the town seemed to have been abandoned early on.

He found a park about ten minutes away and pulled into the gravel parking lot. The open space would give them plenty of room to practice, and there would be less of a risk of walkers sneaking up on them.

They found a few archery targets inside the building nearby, probably in storage for the year’s summer camp, and Thorin decided they would work well enough. He and Dori set them up on the field, then walked across to where Bofur, Ori and Fíli were standing.

Autumn was in full swing, and red and orange leaves were already scattered across the grass. Thorin couldn’t help but think their timing in finding the warehouse was perfect—they’d found shelter just as the weather was starting to get cold.

“Alright.” Thorin took out his gun, checked the magazine and the safety, then handed it to Ori. “Make sure you keep it steady.”

Ori took the gun with his left hand and took a moment to adjust his grip, obviously not used to the position. He raised it towards one of the targets and fired.

They all waited as the gunshot echoed across the field. Bofur brought up one hand to shield his eyes. “I don’t think that one hit.”

“It’s going to take a while to get used to shooting with your other hand. Keep at it.” Thorin nodded to Dori to keep an eye on his brother, then turned to Fíli.

Fíli’s hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and take the gun, but he kept still as Thorin knelt down and held it out.

“This is the safety switch. When it’s like this,” he pushed it, “the gun won’t fire. But even if it is on, you  _ never _ , under any circumstances, point it at one of us. Understand?”

Fíli nodded.

“Alright.” Thorin flipped the safety back off and held out the gun. “Aim it at the target.”

He accepted it, seemingly surprised by the weight, and held it out. “Do I just pull the trigger?”

“Hold your arms out farther. It’s going to kick, so brace yourself.” Thorin stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead.”

The gunshot cracked across the field, and Thorin felt Fíli’s shoulder jerk beneath his hand. Fíli looked down at the gun and blinked a few times. “Okay.”

He sounded as if he’d been expecting more, which was something of a relief. The point wasn’t to get any sort of gratification from firing a gun, and he hoped Fíli would have a better understanding of the weapon after today.

Ori had stopped firing, and was struggling to reload with one hand. Dori looked as if he was on the verge of intervening, but Thorin stopped him with a look.

“We’ll get you a holster so you can reload with one hand.” He held the gun steady so Ori could slide the new magazine in. “How’s it going so far?”

“Not too bad. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Thorin hummed in approval. Ori hardly looked the part, but he’d never been a bad shot. He turned back to Fíli, who had stopped firing after only three bullets.

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “My shoulders hurt.”

“You’ll probably be a little sore tomorrow. Once you build up some muscle, it’ll be easier.”

Fíli looked up at him with a considering expression. “Would you let me have a knife?”

His eyebrows rose. “Why would you want a knife?”

“Well, it’s quieter, right? That’s what you guys use.”

Thorin didn’t like the idea of Fíli getting close to a walker to the point where he would have to use a knife. But Víli had been right—one day he might need it. “We’ll talk to your mom when we get back.”

“Hey.” Ori’s voice made them both turn. He had lowered his gun and was staring towards the trees to their right. “Did you guys see that?”

“See what?” Thorin asked, scanning the area.

“I thought I saw someone moving over there.”

Bofur straightened. “Walkers?”

“Maybe.” It was possible they’d been attracted by the gunshots. He stepped forward and nodded to Dori. “Stay with them. Bofur, you’re with me.”

They spent a few minutes combing the woods, though there was no sign of walkers or otherwise. Thorin frowned to himself—if it had been a walker, then it wouldn’t have gone far. Or perhaps Ori had just been seeing things.

His unease remained with him for the rest of the day, even after they’d gotten back into the truck and driven back to the store. If there was someone out there, they would have no way of knowing.

And he had learned long before before the world had ended that the living could be far more dangerous than the dead.

* * *

 

Bilbo was in an excellent mood.

He’d found a beach chair somewhere, one that could recline horizontally, and dragged it up to the roof. The sun was warm overhead, but a cool breeze had kept him comfortable as he’d sat back to read a book Balin had recommended. At some point he must have dozed off, and now he was lying with his eyes closed and the book resting on his stomach, just listening to the wind ruffle the trees nearby.

It would take some getting used to, but it was nice not to have to worry about walkers for once. Of course, they still had people on watch, but it was relaxing to lie there with his eyes closed and know that nothing was about to attack him.

The scrape of boots against the ground had him cracking one eye open, and he realized with a jolt that Thorin was standing over him.

“Working on your tan?”

“No, just sunning myself,” he said, opening both eyes.

“So, tanning.”

He snorted a laugh. “Sure, whatever.” He’d assumed Thorin had been going to talk to one of the people on watch, but he was just standing there, so he shifted his legs to the side in a silent invitation.

After a half-second of hesitation, Thorin sat, his body perpendicular to Bilbo’s. There wasn’t enough room on the chair to lie side-by-side without being very close (not that Bilbo would have minded much), but Thorin seemed content to sit upright.

He cleared his throat before he could get carried away with that train of thought. “I heard you took Ori and Fíli for target practice today.”

“Mhm. It went well, all things considered.”

“Kíli was not happy about being left behind.”

“He’s seven years old. No one wants him to have a gun. Dís still thinks Fíli is too young, but…” Thorin lowered his gaze, doubt wrinkling his brow.

“You know, he shot me in the face the first time we met.”

Thorin turned to face him, eyebrows raising. “What?”

Bilbo smiled, thinking back on how much had happened between then and now. “I don’t think I ever told you this story. I came home from a run and I found the two of them digging through my pantry. I didn’t have time to do anything before Fíli turned around and shot me with his dart gun…”

He told him the rest of what had happened that day, and Thorin smiled at their antics, though his expression darkened when Bilbo described how they’d run into a walker right after.

“They never told me much about what happened before I found them.” Bilbo folded his hands across his stomach. “But if Fíli managed to keep himself and his brother alive for that long, then maybe he deserves more credit than we’ve been giving him.”

“Not everyone sees it that way.” Thorin turned his gaze to one of the skylights. “Dís still blames herself for the fact that they were left alone. People began pulling their kids from school when the outbreak first started, but she still let them go. Didn’t want them to miss classes. And then it all just went to shit so fast, almost overnight. She wants desperately for things to go back to the way they were before, to...make up for lost time, I guess.”

“Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be one or the other. We teach them how to survive, but make something more out of it in the meantime.” He gestured to the expanse of the roof. “Like we’re doing right now.”

“Yeah.” Thorin was looking at him, considering, and a small smile lit up his face.

Heat was beginning to creep up his neck, and Bilbo shifted so that he was sitting up. He paused as something poked his thigh, and slipped a hand into his pocket. He pulled out a small, shiny rectangle—the mp3 player he’d found on the bridge. “Oh, I forgot I had this.”

“Is that yours?”

“No, I just picked it up from a random car. I haven’t even seen what kind of music is on it.” He pressed one of the buttons, and squinted at the dim screen in the sunlight. “I’ve never even used one of these before.”

Thorin held out a hand, and Bilbo passed the mp3 player to him. He pressed a few buttons, then began scrolling through the list of songs. “Hm. Whoever owned this has good taste.”

Bilbo swung his legs over the side so he could sit next to Thorin, and leaned over to take a look. He was scrolling through a number of songs by some band called Mumford & Sons. “I don’t think I’ve ever listened to them before.” He was more partial to Sindar folk music, but he had a feeling Thorin would laugh at him if he shared that.

Thorin placed the mp3 player on the chair and stood. “I’ll be back.”

“O-Okay.” Bilbo placed his hands in his lap and watched as Thorin descended the stairs.

While he waited, he picked up the mp3 player and fiddled with it absentmindedly. He supposed he considered Thorin a friend, but he still wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with him. They were part of the same family, that was for certain, but that could mean any number of things. He liked him, undoubtedly, but the burden that Thorin carried as their leader, the worries that lingered behind his eyes, made him incredibly distant at times. And then there were the sudden tensions, the disagreements between them that had created a strange uncertainty in their relationship.

His face was open and cheerful, though, as he appeared at the top of the stairs and crossed the roof, tearing open a package as he went. The box was discarded on the floor, and Thorin held a pair of earbuds in one fist.

Bilbo clicked his tongue. “Littering, are we?”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Have I broken the law?”

“I might just have to report you to the authorities.” He watched with a smile as Thorin sat down, closer than he’d been before, and plugged the cord into the mp3 player. He placed one earbud in and handed the other to Bilbo.

There was something intimate about sitting there under the sun, listening together to the first guitar notes filter through the tiny speakers. It was just the two of them, the world filling with color as the tempo picked up, and Bilbo was happy to find this small moment of joy on the roof of an abandoned warehouse.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another filler chapter, mostly. But next chapter I will be introducing a new antagonist that only like one person has mentioned so far but it's gonna be good. And by good I mean very bad for the group. There was a little bit of foreshadowing in this chapter, though some of it won't come into play until much, much later. Any guesses?
> 
> I find it kind of hilarious that Dis (and by extension, me) has been so protective of Fili in regards to using a weapon when in TWD Carl is about the same age and shooting up all kinds of walkers and people.
> 
> The music part at the end was inspired by themuse123's lovely TWD series, which heavily features an iPod with all its dramatic and romantic potential. Also, Thorin's favorite band is absolutely Mumford & Sons and you can't convince me otherwise.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 

“These look to be about even.” Bilbo held the two lengths of wood together and looked up at Bofur.

“Yeah, looks like.” He straightened and tucked the pencil into his pocket. “We can start cutting the wood, now.” He grabbed another piece of wood and set it on the table they were using for their project.

Fíli and Kíli had been asking to have their sleeping area moved to one of the higher shelves, since apparently sleeping a few feet off the ground held some sort of appeal that wasn’t available on the floor. Moving a mattress up had been simple enough, but they hadn’t had a way to get up easily until Bofur had volunteered to construct a ladder for them. Not having much else to do, Bilbo had happily volunteered to help.

“Hold it steady for me, will you?” Bofur braced one hand against the wood and picked up the saw. The materials had come from a home improvement store not too far away, and Bofur and Bombur had already built four small shelters for watch duty.

Bilbo held the other end of the wood. “Alright, I’m ready.”

Bofur began sawing through the length of wood, his movements efficient and steady. The grating noise was rather unpleasant, though, and Bilbo had a jolting flashback to the sound of the knife on Ori’s bone. A chill crawled through him, and he tried his best to put the memory out of his head. Ori was alive and well, and they weren’t in any danger anymore.

Bofur finished cutting the wood into pieces that would be used for the rungs, and looked up at him. “You okay?”

“Mm. Fine.” Bilbo brushed a bit of sawdust off the table. “What do we do next?”

“I’ll start cutting notches into the wood, where the rungs will go. Just need you to hold it steady again.” They moved the other pieces onto the table and took up their positions. “You know, I had one of those bunk beds when I was in college. Slept on the top. Broke my arm, actually, falling out of it.”

Bilbo winced. “Was this the year you had that horrible roommate?”

“Oh, yeah. He was the reason I fell, actually. Little shit was setting off fireworks in the bottom bunk, scared the hell out of me and I rolled right off.”

“Oh my god.” Bilbo suppressed a snort of laughter. “Is he why you dropped out?”

“Nah, I just wasn’t fit for the academic life. You should’ve seen Bombur, though, when he got his architecture degree. Happiest I’ve ever seen him. He built a miniature bungalow on his graduation cap.”

“I would have loved to see that.” Bilbo found himself grinning, and realized Bofur had taken his mind off his memories in an instant.

Bofur glanced over at the box of screws on the table. “Ah, I don’t think we’ll have enough for the ladder. I’m going to start sanding these, would you mind getting me some more?”

“Sure.” Bilbo brushed off his hands again and headed off to the hardware section.

“Two and a half inch, yeah?”

Bilbo gave a thumbs up and turned the corner. He’d gotten familiar with the layout of the store in the time they’d been there, and was pretty sure about where he needed to go.

As he passed the electronics section, he could hear a pair of excited voices coming from one of the aisles. Fíli and Kíli were sifting through a collection of games on the ground, while Thorin and Dwalin stood nearby.

When Kíli caught sight of him, he jumped up and ran over. “Bilbo, look at this! We found the DSs, and some of them still have power, so now me and Fíli can play Mario Kart together!”

Bilbo didn’t know what some of those words meant, but Kíli was positively beaming, so he smiled and said, “Well, I’m very happy for you. Maybe sometime you can teach me how to play.”

“Yeah!” A wicked grin came over his face. “And then me and Fíli are gonna beat you.”

“Right.” Bilbo shook his head, the intricate alliances of these video games remaining a mystery to him, and watched Kíli race over to his brother.

“Ah, I think it’s my turn on watch,” Dwalin said. He nodded to Thorin. “See you later, Oakenshield.”

Thorin rolled his eyes as Dwalin walked away. He stepped over the pile of games and made his way over to Bilbo. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” He started walking again, and Thorin fell into stride next to him. “Oakenshield? I thought your last name was Durin.”

“It is.”

Once, Thorin’s clipped answer would have discouraged him, but now it only ignited his curiosity. “Oakenshield is your...middle name, then.”

“No.”

“Nickname?”

“Sort of.”

“If you tell me about your nickname, I’ll tell you about mine.”

Thorin shrugged. “Alright, fine. Dwalin and I used to play...online games together. Oakenshield was my, uh, username.”

Bilbo blinked. “So it’s a video game thing?” That was sort of unexpected, but he guessed Fíli and Kíli must have gotten their love of games from somewhere.

“Yeah.” A nostalgic smile appeared on his face. “Back in high school, me, Dwalin, Glóin, Fr—the rest of our friends, we’d spend the night eating chips and playing together.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun.” He’d rarely seen an expression like that on Thorin’s face, and it warmed something in his chest.

“So what about your nickname?”

“Oh. Well, mine has to do with a game as well. I used to play rugby back in high school, and I was pretty good at it. So my team nicknamed me Mad Baggins.” He couldn’t help a slight chuckle, saying it out loud. “It’s been so long since I thought about it.”

Thorin looked him up and down, as though trying to picture him in a rugby uniform, and Bilbo felt his cheeks grow hot.

“I never would have guessed it, that I was the athletic one in high school, while you were, uh…” He began to stammer when Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Well, just that there’s a bit of a stereotype around people who play those sorts of games, that, um, some people might consider them—”

“Lazy?” Thorin shrugged again, looking unbothered. “Maybe we were. My dad wanted us to do something more with our lives. He was the one who pressured me into joining the military.”

“Oh.” Bilbo frowned. Thorin had said it so casually, but that seemed an awful thing to do, especially given how the experience had scarred him. His own father had been content with his more bookish tendencies, but more than that, he’d encouraged him to be a kind and giving person, no matter what career path he chose. “Well, I’m sure he would be proud to see you now.”

“Hm.” Thorin looked away and was silent for a long moment, clearly lost in memory. Eventually his brow cleared and he turned back to Bilbo. “What other things did you do in high school?”

They talked about school and television and museums and football, wandering aimlessly around the store. Eventually they found themselves in the kitchen section and Bilbo broke the conversation to look at one of the packages.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted one of these!”

“What is it?” Thorin asked, stopping next to him.

“An onion chopper. It drops it directly into a container, see, and it’s completely closed so you don’t tear up while doing it.”

Thorin glanced down at the price listed on the shelf. “It’s only 23.99.”

“Ah.” Bilbo dipped his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have that much. I’m broke, actually.” Thorin snorted a laugh at that, and Bilbo grinned.

A low knock sounded from the end of the aisle, and they turned to see Bofur rapping on one of the shelves. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was looking for some screws…”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bofur, I got kind of sidetracked.” Heat burned on his cheeks, and he gestured to the onion cutter. “I was looking at, um, this.”

“No worries.” Bofur was grinning, inexplicably—but then again, it was Bofur. “I’m in no rush.”

“I’ll come with you to get the screws, now. Um…” He turned to Thorin, feeling as though he owed him an apology as well.

“I won’t keep you.” The smile had left his face, and he turned and left the aisle without another word.

The heat had spread to his ears as he joined Bofur in walking to the hardware section. “Sorry about that. I just got distracted.”

“I’m sure you did,” Bofur said, waggling his eyebrows. He looked as if he found the whole thing hilarious, and Bilbo had no idea why.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He stretched and adjusted his hat, his mustache still twitching. “Absolutely nothing.”

* * *

 

Thorin shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked away, trying to ignore the jealousy needling at his heart. It was unreasonable for him to feel this way. Bilbo could spend his time however he liked, and he had no right to judge him.

But the past several weeks had slowly shifted his perspective. As the group became safer, more comfortable, it left him with less things to worry about, and therefore less to distract him from...other matters.

_ Find something that makes you happy _ , Dís had said, and it was getting more difficult to put that off.

He sighed and rounded the corner, making his way towards the backroom. Maybe he’d go up and see how the team on watch was doing. It was getting colder, and sitting on the roof was getting less pleasant.

Something darted past his feet.

Thorin swore, already reaching for his gun, but the thing was gone as soon as it had come. He had only a second to look for it before Fíli and Kíli barreled down the aisle, nearly knocking into him.

“Hey,” he said, and when they didn’t stop, barked, “Hey!” When they turned around, he asked, “What the hell was that?” Dís would have smacked him upside the head for swearing in front of them, but his nerves were on high alert.

“A cat!” Kíli said, bouncing on his toes as though revving up to start chasing it again.

“We were trying to catch it,” Fíli said, searching his face as though trying to ascertain if they were in trouble or not.

Thorin took his hand off his gun and wondered how the hell a cat had managed to slip inside.

“Come on, Uncle Thorin,” Kíli said, eyes wide. “You can help us catch it.”

He shifted, considering. He’d never been great at resisting Kíli’s puppy dog eyes, a trait he had definitely inherited from his mother. “Alright, fine.”

Kíli took off again, Fíli right on his heels, while Thorin followed at a more sedate pace.

“Come on, kitty! Where are you?” Kíli squatted down to check under a shelf, then took off to search the next one.

Fíli slowed down so he could keep pace with Thorin. “Do you think we can lure it out with some cat food?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Most of it had probably expired by now, along with a large amount of regular food in the store. They’d had to get rid of most of the refrigerated products and other things that had gone bad, and though none of them liked throwing out food en masse, keeping it would only increase the chances of one of them getting sick.

“Up there!” Kíli was jumping up and down, pointing to one of the higher shelves. Fíli and Thorin joined him and found a brown tabby peering down at them, its tail swishing back and forth.

The boys both looked to him, and Thorin realized he was the only one tall enough to reach the cat. Bracing himself, he stepped forward and reached up. “Here, kitty…”

The cat hissed and swiped at him. Thorin cursed and drew back his hand, narrowly missing his wrist being clawed open.

“He’s probably just scared,” Fíli said. “Been out there all by himself. It’s cold, too.”

Kíli crossed his arms. “How do you know it’s a boy?”

Thorin sighed and stepped back. “Well, I’m not touching that thing. It’ll probably find its way out on its own.”

“But I wanted to keep it as a pet!” Kíli tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Please, Uncle Thorin, can we keep it?”

He suppressed a groan. With seventeen people in the group and another on the way, he didn’t need an animal to keep track of. That being said, having a cat around would help prevent any mice or the like from getting into their food. Nori had worked in a pet store before—maybe he would know how to handle this.

Quick footsteps sounded close by, and a moment later, Dís rounded the corner, her rifle still dangling from her shoulder. “Thorin, we have a problem.”

“Where?” he asked, already reaching for his gun.

“Another group. They’re stopped just outside the front door. Boys, come here.”

Fíli shot him a worried glance as he and Kíli walked towards her. “Are we in danger?”

Thorin stopped himself before he could utter any false reassurance. Being lied to wouldn’t do him any good, not with the way things were now. “I’ll look into it. Stay with your mom.”

He made his way towards the front door, Dwalin and Balin joining him along the way. Together, they moved aside the metal racks barricading the door and walked through.

The light outside was nearly blinding—even with the skylights, the interior of the store was rather dim. Thorin kept his hand on his gun, blinking rapidly, and took in the sight just beyond the wooden structures.

The other group was smaller than theirs—there were only two pickup trucks, parked about twenty feet from the entrance. A large white dog was sitting in the backseat, barking almost incessantly.

Thorin tensed as one of the men began to move forward, and moved up as well, with Dwalin and Balin right behind him. The low scrape of the door opening told him more of his group was stepping outside, but he didn’t turn around.

“We come in peace,” said the man in front, holding his hands at shoulder level. He had a scraggly mustache and slouched shoulders, and Thorin couldn’t immediately tell he wasn’t the true leader of the group, even if he was speaking for them.

What really caught his attention was the pale man standing half-out of the truck, one forearm resting on the top of the door. He was ex-military as well—it stood out in the scars peeking from his stained shirt and the easy way his assault rifle was slung over his shoulder. But what really unnerved Thorin was his casual, almost lazy posture coupled with the cold glint in his eyes.

“Dwalin,” he muttered, turning his head to the side slightly.

“On it,” he said, and turned to walk back inside. He’d have better aim from the roof, and they needed an experienced marksman up there. He hoped the rest of the people on watch hadn’t left their posts.

“That’s a big building, there” the weaselly man said, his eyes following Dwalin for a moment before switching back to him. “You have a lot of people inside? Or is it just this lot?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Thorin took another step forward. He would rather draw their fire than have one of his own get hurt. “You wouldn’t be able to take all of us.”

The man let out a stuttering laugh and shook his head. “Now, now, that’s not what we’re after. Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He put a hand on his chest. “My name is Alfrid.” He swung the other hand back towards his group. “And this is...everyone else.”

Thorin only stared, determined not to give them even the courtesy of an introduction.

Alfrid cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, we were hoping to come to an agreement of sorts. A trade, if you will.” He spread his hands. “We need food, shelter. And you look like you could use some extra protection.”

“Do we?” Thorin’s voice slid into a growl.

“Well, it never hurts to have a few extra guns. It’s been rough out here, just us with not enough food to go around.” He stared at Thorin. “The way things are now, there’s always the chance something could go wrong.”

The man was being ridiculously transparent about his intentions. If Thorin was stupid enough to let them inside, they’d kill everyone in the middle of the night. His main concern was that they’d try and take the place by force once he turned them away.

“Listen to me.” He took another step forward. Balin hissed a barely-audible warning behind him, but he ignored it. “I know what you want. I know how you think you’re going to get it. And you should know that you  _ will _ lose this fight.”

The pale man suddenly glanced up, and his eyes narrowed as they landed on the roof. Dwalin had his back, and Thorin was able to relax just a fraction.

He turned back to the spokesman of the group and spoke lowly. “I suggest you turn around now and get back in your truck, or I’ll kill you myself.”

The man stared at him for a long while, searching his face for a bluff. The pale man suddenly stepped inside the truck and slammed the door shut, causing him to jump. He gathered himself and looked at Thorin with a stiff, uneasy smile. “Best of luck to you, then.”

Thorin watched him wordlessly as he backed up towards the truck and climbed inside. The pale man watched him through the windshield, the glint in his eyes sending an involuntary chill down his spine. He revved the engine loudly, and the two trucks pulled out of the parking lot. He waited there a long while after they were out of sight, then turned back to the front doors.

Everyone was there, save Dís, the boys, Brana, Dwalin, and the three others that had been on watch. They were standing in a tense knot, clearly shaken by what had just happened, but also looking to him for guidance.

Now that the adrenaline of the situation had faded away, frustration and anger began to seep in. They’d grown complacent in their relative luxury. Even he had begun to forget the dangers that the walkers—and more importantly, other people—posed to the group.

“We double the watch from now on,” he said as he walked past. “And we barricade the doors. Everyone has a walkie from now on. If anything comes within a hundred feet of the building, I want to know about it.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin channeling Rick a little bit in that last scene. Slightly off topic but this reminds me of the time Andrew Lincoln saved Richard Armitage from falling out of a helicopter while they were filming Strike Back.  
> And no, the cat is not going to be the group pet. I have enough damn characters to juggle as is and a baby on the way besides.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 

A blast of freezing air hit Thorin as soon as he opened the door to the roof, but he’d already braced himself for it. He shrugged off the cold and stepped outside, treading across the scuff marks already laid in the thin layer of snow.

He made his usual rounds, checking on Glóin at the south corner, Bofur at the west wall, Óin in the north, and finally Ori at the last shelter. 

It was bitter work, standing in the cold for hours on end, but Thorin made few exceptions for guard duty. It had been weeks since they’d seen any sign of the other group, but he hadn’t forgotten about them—not by a long shot. In this kind of weather, people tended to get desperate, and he’d rather his group be cold for a few hours than dead.

Ori glanced at him briefly as he approached, then turned back to the still forest below, his gun ready in the holster at his hip.

“Everything alright?”

He hummed in the affirmative. “Been quiet so far.”

It had been every day for weeks, now. Even the walkers had thinned out, probably slowed by the cold. Some of his darker thoughts had strayed to the possibility of the group growing resentful of his caution, that they might perceive it as paranoia. But no one had said anything so far, and he tried not to let those thoughts consume him.

Footsteps from behind made him turn, but it was only Dori, coming to relieve Ori from his shift. He always arrived a little early. His rifle was slung over his shoulder, with a steaming mug of tea in one hand and his knitting supplies in the other.

“Why don’t you go get warmed up, then,” Dori said, handing the tea to Ori.

“Thanks.” He accepted the mug, cradling it between both hands.

“How’s the holster working for you?” Thorin asked.

“Good.” Ori nodded. “I’m getting used to holding it with my other hand.”

Dori patted him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” he said, and went to take his place.

Ori smiled at that, his cheeks pink with more than just the cold, and headed back inside.

Thorin raised an eyebrow as Dori began to set up his knitting things. He’d made a sweater for almost everyone in the group, now that the appropriate weather had arrived, and even a tiny outfit for Brana’s baby. He’d thought, wrongly, that it would have ended there, but apparently everyone needed mittens too, and socks, and of course everyone had to have multiple pairs…

“It helps pass the time,” Dori said when he caught him looking.

“I’ve already said I don’t want any distractions when people are on watch.” He’d had to have a similar discussion with Glóin after Brana had offered to sit with her on watch to help “warm her up.”

“I don’t need to use my eyes,” he said, needles already clacking even as he scanned the pale landscape below. “It’s practically second nature at this point.” 

Thorin didn’t doubt that. “Look, it only takes one second for something to go wrong.”

“I understand that. But I don’t think we’ll have to worry too much, at least for the next day or two.” He nodded to the dark clouds on the horizon. By the afternoon it would likely start snowing. “We’ll be snowed in, but everyone will also be snowed out.”

“We’ll see.” He frowned as another blast of cold air swept over the roof. Perhaps he was being hard on the group, but he was only trying to keep them all alive. “Just stay alert, alright?”

“Of course.” Dori kept his eyes on the trees, and Thorin, still frowning, turned to head back inside.

* * *

 

“Alright,” Bifur said, shrugging on his coat. “I’m off to check the traps.”

Bilbo glanced over at the whiteboard where they’d organized everyone’s collective chores for the week. Under the neat grid that Balin had drawn, Dori had written, “ _ Nori—STOP leaving snowballs on my pillow _ ,” but someone (presumably Nori) had erased part of the message, so it now read: “ _ Nori—STOP leaving balls on my pi _ .”

“It’s my turn for water duty. I’ll come with you.” Bilbo stood up and went to grab his own coat. If there was one benefit to snow, it was that it was easier to gather than water from the stream nearby. They collected enough to heat up for bathing, which allowed them to save the bottled water for drinking.

As he was bundling up on his way to the front door, Fíli sidled up and fell into step next to him.

Bilbo eyed the bright red coat tucked under one arm. “Going somewhere?”

“Can I come help you?” Fíli asked, glancing up at him with a pleading gaze that was usually found on his brother’s face.

“Well, I don’t see why not. Is everything alright?”

His head dropped slightly. “Kíli’s mad at me.”

“What? Why?”

Fíli only shrugged. “He won’t talk to me.”

“Maybe later I can help the two of you resolve this.” He patted him on the shoulder. “But I think the both of us need some fresh air in the meantime.”

The winter storm that had passed earlier that week had left heavy snows as far as they could see. But it had gone mostly unnoticed by the group, warm and well-stocked as they were inside the store. Any movement outside was clearly marked in the snow, and though there were a few shuffling prints left by walkers, things had been quiet and untouched for the most part. It had left all of them restful and restless at the same time.

Bifur was waiting at the door when they approached. He smiled as Fíli zipped up his jacket. “Coming to catch some squirrels?”

His eyes widened. “Can I?”

“I thought you were helping me gather snow.” Bilbo reached over to adjust Fíli’s scarf so it was covering more of his neck.

“I can do both.” He picked up one of the plastic buckets they kept by the door, and Bilbo took the other.

They all winced at the seeping chill waiting on the other side of the door, though the wind wasn’t too bad. Most of the snow from the storm had melted, and they were able to walk across the parking lot without making any footprints. Bifur turned to wave at Ori, who was on watch just above.

They headed into the woods, where Glóin and Bifur had set up a few snares. It was nice to have some fresh meat every once in a while, though Bilbo tried not to think too hard about how they obtained it. They came across a dead rabbit caught in the first trap, and he busied himself with scooping some snow into his bucket.

“This one’s got a good bit of meat on it,” Bifur said, kneeling down to get the rabbit out. “You feel like jerky tonight?”

Fíli leaned closer and made a noise that could have been “Ooh,” or “Ew.”

Bilbo winced at the dull thump of the rabbit hitting the bottom of the plastic bag Bifur carried. He stood up and hefted his bucket. “I think I’ll just head back, now.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?”

“I can see the store from here.” Bilbo gestured to the gray shape beyond the trees. “And I have my gun. Fíli, are you coming?”

“Um…” He was still gazing at the empty snare, the empty bucket dangling from his fingers.

“Come on.” Bifur cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll show you how to get the next one loose.”

“Okay,” Fíli said, still looking uncertain.

Bilbo smiled reassuringly. “Come find me when you get back, okay? Then we can go talk to Kíli.”

He brightened a little at that, and Bilbo felt comfortable enough to trudge back to the warehouse without him.

He brought the bucket of snow over to the white tub where they kept their water for cleaning and bathing. He grunted as he tried to lift it to the rim and frowned. Usually they had someone stronger do this job—or maybe living in comfort for so long had made him physically weaker. He’d definitely gotten softer around the middle again.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Óin came around the corner and set the book under his arm on one of the shelves. Together, they lifted the bucket and dumped the snow inside.

“Thanks,” Bilbo said, and stretched his arms. “Only need to do that ten more times.” He glanced over at the book Óin had put down. It was one of the medical texts they’d found at a nearby doctor’s office. “I seriously can’t believe it.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re putting yourself through medical school,” he said, “in the middle of the  _ apocalypse _ .”

“Can’t hurt, can it?” Óin went to retrieve the book. “It’s safe to say Dís knows more about pregnancy than I do, but I want to be prepared in case something goes wrong—with Brana or anyone else. God forbid I have to perform another amputation.”

Bilbo nodded, sobering up a little. “I mean, it really is amazing that you’re doing all this. You saved Ori’s life, and I know everyone else feels safer knowing that you would do the same for them. I know it’s a lot of responsibility, but I’m very glad you’re part of the group.”

Óin blinked and nodded, then cleared his throat. “Well, thank you for that. It’s nice to know I’m appreciated.”

Bofur came into view from around one of the shelves, knocking on it as he went. Apparently that was his thing now. “Have either of you seen Fíli? I found that Lego piece he was looking for.” He held up the tiny plastic object. “Slid under one of the shelves.”

“I think he’s still outside with Bifur. He’s showing him how to do the traps.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll find him later.”

“Speaking of outside…” Bilbo picked up his bucket with a grimace. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Have fun with that.” Óin tucked his book under his arm and walked away with Bofur.

Adjusting his scarf, Bilbo went to go brave the cold again.

* * *

 

That afternoon found Bilbo elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the dishes they’d used for that day’s lunch. They’d gotten more creative with their meals, given the limited variety in food that was still edible. He still found himself wishing for fresh fruits and vegetables, especially after seeing Nori’s Spam and cheese sandwiches with “mystery sauce” that only Glóin had been brave enough to try.

Technically, it was Brana’s turn to help wash dishes, but no one would let her so much as get up for a glass of water. She’d complained earlier that one of them would probably volunteer to give birth for her when the time came.

He passed another plate to Dís, who was busy drying them. “I’ll be glad when it warms up again. Then all this cold water will actually feel nice.”

“Yeah, say that again once summer hits and we’re all dying in here with no AC.”

Bilbo grimaced slightly. “Or that.” The store had a backup generator, but it was too low on fuel to run for long. What little they’d managed to scrounge up, Thorin wanted to save for the vehicle in case of an emergency.

“Mom?” Kíli walked over, a soccer ball balanced between two hands. “Have you seen Fíli?”

“No, did you check the bunk bed?”

“Yeah, but he’s not there.”

“Go ask Bifur,” Bilbo said. “He was probably the last to see him.” After Kíli scampered off, he turned to Dís and said, “I guess he got over whatever they were fighting about earlier.”

She nodded. “Kíli doesn’t stay mad for long. Probably wasn’t anything big.”

“I do worry, sometimes, that they’re the only kids in the group. I mean, they have each other, but…”

“Hopefully that’ll change when the baby comes. They’ll have someone to entertain, at least.” She chuckled. “And Kíli won’t be the baby of the family anymore.”

“You seem excited about it,” Bilbo said, noticing how her face had lit up.

“Well, I love babies,” Dís said with a smile. “And it’ll be nice not to have to worry about staying up all night or changing diapers. I just get to do the cool aunt stuff.”

Bilbo laughed. “It must be nice, to be part of such a close family.”

“What about you?” She looked up at him. “You don’t talk about your family much.”

“Well…” He looked down, focusing on the soapy water clinging to his hands. “I wasn’t really close to any of them, especially after my parents died. They all liked me well enough, but…” He shook his head and sighed. “There was always this pressure from them for me to get married, and that was just…”

“Hey.” Dís nudged him with her elbow. When he looked up, he groaned at the suggestive look she was giving him.

“Please, not this again.”

“I’m just saying.” She picked up another dish and began drying it. “It’s not like your dating pool is huge right now, and—”

Kíli reappeared, his hands empty now. He was frowning. “Bifur says that Fíli went back inside with you.”

Bilbo paused. “No, he didn’t. I-I mean, I didn’t see him.”

Dís looked back and forth between the two of them. “Wait, inside? What are you talking about?”

“Well, he—Fíli—” He stammered for a moment, struck with the sudden, sinking feeling that he’d done something wrong. “He went out with Bifur and I to collect some snow, and h-he stayed with Bifur to help him with the traps. At least, that’s what I thought…”

The furrow in Dís’s brow deepened. “So, was he with  _ you _ , or was he with Bifur?”

“I went inside alone. I don’t know if I came in after me a-and went somewhere else—”

Dís rose to her feet, dropping the towel to the ground. Bilbo hurried to follow her, the dish in his hands slipping back into the water, with Kíli on his heels.

They found Bifur relaxing in his armchair, though he sat up when he saw Dís approaching. Before he could say anything, she demanded, “Where’s Fíli?”

He glanced from her to Bilbo. “He didn’t want to check the traps with me, so I sent him to catch up with you.”

Dís’s voice was low and horrified. “Bifur, we can’t find him.”

Bilbo held his hands out. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay? We haven’t even searched the whole store yet.” His heart was beginning to pound, and his words were directed as much to himself as the others. “Ori was on watch. He must have seen him come in.”

The four of them hurried to find Ori, and eventually spotted him fiddling with his camera in his sleeping area. He looked up, shrinking a little as Dís approached.

“When you were on watch, did you see Fíli come back inside?”

“N-No,” he said, the camera dropping into his lap. “But my shift was over a few minutes after Bilbo came back in. I didn’t see Bifur come back either.”

“Who was after you?”

“Thorin. What’s going on? Is Fíli missing?”

Dís muttered something unintelligible and whirled around to find her brother. The rest of the group in the living area shot them concerned looks as the five of them hurried past.

Thorin was coming from the back, likely checking up on the roof even though his shift had ended already. His expression darkened with concern as he saw the five of them. “What happened?”

Dís stopped and grabbed him by the elbows. “Please tell me you saw Fíli come back inside today.”

“I didn’t.” He glanced around, searching everyone’s faces. “Why was he outside?”

Bilbo let out a panicked breath, and a paralyzing chill swept into the empty space. That could only mean that Fíli was still out there— _ alone _ —

Everything became a rush after that, questions and jumbled explanations and words of disbelief swirling about. Everyone was moving towards the front door, and they only stopped when Thorin’s voice rose above everyone else’s.

“Everyone, quiet!” He glared at them until they were silent, then moved to the front of the crowd, between them and the door. “We need most of the group to stay behind. We can’t leave this place vulnerable. I’ll take a small team—”

Dís pushed her way to the front, Víli right behind her. “We should start looking now. He’s been gone for hours at this point.”

“I wanna come, too.” Kíli appeared, his eyes wide and watery. “I wanna find Fíli.”

Víli knelt down and put his hands on Kíli’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, okay? We’ll find your brother. I need you to stay here and keep this place safe for when we get back.”

“I should probably go, too.” Bilbo stepped forward. “I-It’s partially my fault he’s missing.” Bifur moved up as well, though he didn’t say anything, his jaw tense.

“Fine.” Thorin shifted his gaze to the others. “The rest of you, watch the entrances. Keep a lookout on the roof while you can. It’s going to get dark soon”

With that, he turned and headed for the door, the other four following him. Bilbo glanced back in time to see Kíli watching them, looking small and lost in his oversized coat, before Brana led him away.

The cold billowed over them like a cloud as Thorin pushed the door open, but Bilbo barely felt it. There was only the white, buzzing anxiety taking up most of the space in his chest, each jolt reintroducing him to the fact that Fíli was  _ missing _ .

As Thorin had warned, the sun was already going down. The woods were shrouded in shadow, and the tiny beam of light from Bifur’s flashlight did little to help them see. It took them a while to find the tracks they had left earlier that day, but thankfully they were still there.

Worse than the cold was the silence that hung about the group as they followed the footprints. Dís and Víli stayed close, tense shoulders brushing occasionally, and Bilbo imagined this was an echo of the grief they’d felt when Kíli had been separated from their group all those months ago.

Bifur was at the front, flashlight sweeping the dim trees for signs of life (or otherwise), and Bilbo could see from the stiffness in his posture just how much he blamed himself for what happened. It made the sting of his own carelessness all the worse.

And Thorin, keeping pace with Bifur, looked just as tense and alert as ever. But Bilbo still caught flashes of panic in his eyes every time he turned to look around.

The light glinted off something lying in the snow, and they all rushed to see what it was. Bilbo’s stomach sank as he realized it was the bucket Fíli had been using to collect snow. 

Thorin threw an arm out before Dís or Víli could reach it. “Stop. We need to preserve the tracks.”

Bifur finally spoke. “Fíli must have backtracked from there. I was in that direction when I sent him back.” He moved the flashlight’s beam to indicate where he was talking about, then moved it back to where the bucket was lying.

“Jesus Christ,” Dís hissed. The snow had been scuffed and trampled in a rather chaotic pattern, but it was clear that some sort of struggle had taken place. As the flashlight drew wider circles around the area, they were able to piece together a more complete picture of what had happened.

There were three tracks connected to where the struggle had taken place—the one Fíli must have left heading back to the store, another set of prints coming from another angle, and then a set of two leading away.

“Someone else must have intercepted him here,” Thorin said, indicating the two tracks.

Víli’s voice was ragged as he said, “Do you think a walker…”

“There’s no blood,” Bilbo said, then cleared his throat as his voice wavered. “There—There would be blood if h-he was bit. Maybe he got away.”

Maybe a walker had attacked Fíli but he had gotten away unharmed. Maybe he was only lost right now, terrified and exhausted but  _ safe _ , and they would find him and bring him back and this would be nothing more than a brief scare.

“It wasn’t a walker,” Bifur said lowly. He took a few steps towards the pair of tracks. “The steps are close together, nearly on top of one another. If a walker was chasing him, they’d be farther apart, taking slightly different paths.”

Dís made a low, strangled noise. She was shaking. “Come on.”

She took off at a run, and the rest of them followed her, fumbling through the shadows after the footprints in the snow.

It wasn’t long before Bilbo’s lungs were burning, but he kept pace with the others. Desperation was the only thing keeping him upright, countering the dizzying realization that someone had taken Fíli, that he was probably afraid and in pain right now, assuming he wasn’t—

They broke through the treeline and stopped dead. The tracks ended just outside the forest, right before snowy ground turned to asphalt. The snow had either melted or blown away, and they’d come to a dead end.

A freezing gust swept down the road. Bilbo stared at the point where it disappeared behind the trees, and felt despair echo back at him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry guys, Fili was in the barn the whole time!  
> But in all seriousness, things are about to start picking up again and will get a lot darker than I originally planned. Take that how you will.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This warning does not fully encompass any of the shit that happens in this chapter, but for anyone who would be bothered by this, the dog dies.

**Chapter 19**

 

They returned to the warehouse in the early hours of the morning, freezing and exhausted. Bilbo was fairly sure the tips of his fingers were numb, but the sensation was distant. Everything was.

They’d spent hours combing the length of the road, searching for footprints or any other sign of what had happened to Fíli. A set of blurred tracks had given them a bit of false hope, but all they’d found at the end of the trail was a walker stuck up to its knees in snow. Víli had stepped forward, and there hadn’t been much left of the walker afterwards.

Finally, Bilbo had worked up the courage to suggest they head back to the warehouse—if only to check in with the others and pool their resources for another search. He didn’t dare suggest that they might need rest, even as he began to stumble through the snow. It seemed trivial, almost insulting, to think about rest when Fíli was still out there.

The doors opened as they crossed the parking lot, and Óin was waiting for them when they stepped inside.

“We started to think you weren’t coming back at all,” he said, counting the members of their group with no subtlety whatsoever. He let out a short, rough sigh. “No luck?”

Thorin and Bifur march by without a word. Bilbo wouldn’t have put it past them to walk right out the back door and continue the search. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop them.

“We, um…” Dís faltered, pressing two fingers to her brow. Her face was ashen, and Víli was partially supporting her with an arm around her shoulders.

They both looked dead on their feet with worry and exhaustion, and Bilbo felt something guilt-laced churn in his stomach. He reached over and touched Víli on the arm. “I’ll handle this. You two, um, get some rest.”

Víli gave him a grateful nod and led his wife away. Bilbo waited until Óin had finished closing the door, then began walking with him towards their living area.

Once the two were out of earshot, Óin asked, lowly, “Is he dead?”

“ _ No _ ,” Bilbo said, the word out of his mouth before he could really think about it. “I-I mean, we don’t know.”

They reached the living area, where everyone had gathered. Kíli was leaning against Brana, looking half-asleep, though he sat up straight when he saw Bilbo approach.

“Where’s Fíli?”

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, then stopped as tears welled up. After a moment, he managed to push them down. He couldn’t break down now. He didn’t deserve it.

“We...We found his tracks in the snow. We think someone must have taken him.”

An alarmed murmur swept over the group. Kíli’s expression crumpled, and he sat down and put his face in his hands. Brana put an arm around him, but her eyes were on Bilbo as Balin asked, “Were you able to follow the tracks?”

“They stopped at the road.” He tried to take a breath, though it was difficult with the hard, cold pit lodged in his chest. “So we...we don’t…”

“We’ll take the car tomorrow, try again,” Óin said, and a few others murmured in agreement. He patted Bilbo’s shoulder. “Go get some rest in the meantime. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, then made his way over to his bed. He didn’t want to sleep—walking away just meant he didn’t have to look at Kíli’s shaking form and know he was at least partly to blame.

Feeling like a coward, he slumped onto the mattress and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. It had all happened so fast—all because of an  _ accident _ , for god’s sake. If he had bothered to glance over his shoulder, then Fíli would be here.

“Hey.”

He started, taking his hands from his face, and found Bombur holding the curtain back. Ori was peering over his shoulder.

“You should eat something.” Bombur held out a cup of instant noodles, a towel wrapped around it to protect from the heat. “You were out there for a long time.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo sat up, but made no move to take the cup. “But I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll still need your strength, yeah?” Ori ducked under the curtain and sat down beside him. “We’re going out to search again tomorrow.”

“Right.” He nodded, swallowing hard. Even if they did manage to find him, even if he was still alive, he would be changed. Something had already changed in the hours he’d been alone, possibly in pain, or…

Bombur gave him a light smack across the side of the head, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Ow.” He glared up at him. “What was that for?”

“Quit it. I know where your head’s going right now.” He sat down on his other side and offered the cup again. “Eat your damn soup.”

Bilbo accepted it finally, and ate in silence. It didn’t taste much like anything.

Bombur and Ori sat next to him in silence, and when he’d finished eating, they took the empty container and left. Bilbo let out a shaky sigh and laid down again. He still felt cold, ridden with grief and worry. But they had stopped him from spiraling, at least.

Sleep, obviously, didn’t come. After a few hours, Bilbo decided there was no point stewing in his thoughts, and that he might as well walk around if he was going to torment himself with the same what-ifs.

His steps, almost subconsciously, led him to the roof. A part of him worried that Thorin and Bifur had actually gone out to search again, which sparked both anxiety and exasperation. The last thing they needed was another two members of their group out alone in the dark and at risk of also getting kidnapped.

Thorin and Bifur were nowhere to be found, but a few others were standing on the roof, scanning the ground below. Bilbo’s eyes drifted towards the hunched figure sitting on the edge of the roof. The moon was just bright enough to reveal a blond glint. Víli and his son were the only two with such light hair.

He approached slowly, anxiety knotting in his gut. What was he supposed to say? Apologies, assurances—did any of it really matter?

Maybe he just needed someone to sit by him, as Ori and Bombur had done for him. Bilbo came to a stop at the edge of the roof, leaning his forearms on the low ledge. He glanced down and saw Víli’s feet dangling over open air, and the knot in his chest tightened further.

“You’re being careful?”

“Mm.” Víli gave a short, jerky nod. “Don’t tell Dís, though.”

“Yeah.” She was probably downstairs, worrying herself into knots. That had always been a given—she worried over her boys and everyone knew it, but Bilbo had never given much thought to how Víli felt about it. He seemed so collected most of the time, so confident that things would work out.

“She’s always been the responsible one,” Víli continued. “She always knew what was going on with the boys, made sure they got ready for school. Even during this shit show, she’s been so...so  _ strong _ through all of it. I wish I could be more like her, you know?”

Bilbo smiled slightly, though there was no joy in it. “I think we all do.” She and Thorin were certainly cut from the same cloth.

“I should have been there,” Víli said, his voice growing thick. “When Kíli was left at the motel, when Fíli was taken...I mean, what kind of father lets that kind of thing happen to his kids?”

“No,” Bilbo said. “It’s not your fault—”

“Yeah, it is. I know everyone here takes care of the boys, but at the end of the day, I am their father. This is on  _ me _ .” He jabbed a finger at his chest, and the motion caused him to sway slightly.

Bilbo darted over and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, come on. You want to beat yourself up, don’t do it on the edge of the roof.”

Víli puffed out a breath and swung his legs over the side, taking a couple steps away. “I’m sorry. I might be a little sleep deprived right now.”

“We all are.” Bilbo took him by the elbow and began leading him towards the door. “Go get some rest, if you can. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Whatever tomorrow would bring, he dreaded. He turned one last time to look at the dark expanse, the waving fingers of the empty trees below, then shivered and headed inside.

* * *

 

Bilbo woke the next morning feeling sluggish, his legs sore from trudging across miles of pavement and damp soil. He wasn’t really sure if he’d gotten any sleep at all.

The others were already up, getting dressed and packing away weapons and other supplies for their search. There was no new hope in the atmosphere, only a tense sort of desperation. Whatever it took, they  _ had _ to find Fíli today.

Thorin was standing by one of the dining tables, leaning over a large sheet of paper with a rough sketch of the surrounding area. He looked haggard, but there was a still a sharpness in his gaze as he spoke with Víli and Óin.

“You good?” Bombur asked, coming to stand next to him.

He shrugged and suppressed a yawn. “Exhausted, for starters.”

“I think there’s still a little coffee left in the pot, if you want it.”

“Thanks.” He walked over to the kitchen area and retrieved his mug from the container on the counter. They each had their own with some sort of personalized decoration—his had faded paintings of mushrooms on the side. He filled it up halfway with the remaining coffee and glanced at the container again. Fíli’s was peeking out from the side, decorated with some masked character that he’d painted himself. He liked to pour his juice or water into it in the morning, possibly to fit in with everyone else. He looked away, a lump growing in his throat.

“Alright, everyone,” Thorin said, raising his voice so they could all hear him. “We’ll split up into three teams of three. The other five will stay here to keep watch, keep the place safe. Balin will drive everyone to their areas, and we’ll comb through from there and reconvene at—”

The walkie on the table crackled, and everyone froze as Bofur’s voice sounded, tensely delivering two words: “They’re back.”

Thorin took a deep breath and straightened. “Change of plans. Bifur, Glóin, Bombur, I want you on the roof, reinforcing Bofur’s position. The rest of you—with me.”

Brana stood with a slight wince, one hand supporting her belly. “I’ll go find Kíli. I think he’s still asleep.”

Glóin hesitated. “You’ll be okay?”

“Of course. You be safe too, yeah?” She gave her a quick kiss, then set off to find Kíli.

Bilbo hurried to catch up as the others set off towards the front door. At the mention of the other group, adrenaline had shot through him, faster than the caffeine would have, and he placed one trembling hand on his gun as they walked.

They were waiting in the parking lot, both trucks in nearly the exact same position as last time. The man who had spoken before, Alfrid, was waiting in front. His hands were tucked in his pockets—he looked too relaxed, given the situation.

“You have thirty seconds to turn around,” Thorin said, the lines of his body tense and angry. “Or we’ll open fire.”

“Well, I think you’ll want to hear what we have to say.” Alfrid took a moment to look around at their group, a smug glint in his eye. “You weren’t a big fan of our last trade, so we’ve changed the terms.” He glanced back. “Azog?”

The pale man stepped forward. Everyone was standing outside of the trucks, and another man was holding the leash of the large white dog. It wasn’t barking this time, only growling lowly, leaning forward so that the leash was taut.

Azog walked around the truck and stopped at the passenger door. He opened it and pulled something out.

Dís let out a scream and darted forward, only for Nori to grab her by the shoulders and hold her back. Víli was being restrained similarly by Dori.

Fíli didn’t meet any of their eyes as Azog dragged him in front of the truck. His clothing was dirty and scraped, and a nasty purple bruise covered most of the left side of his face. He was shaking so badly, it took a moment for him to regain his balance. Bilbo took in a breath, and let out a dizzying mixture of fear and rage.

“It’s a simple trade,” Alfrid said. “We’ve left this one mostly intact.” He gestured to Fíli.

The dog suddenly lunged forward, nearly dislodging the leash from the other man’s hands. He snarled and barked, and Fíli flinched away.

“We’ll return him to you, in exchange for this place. And that includes all the shit inside.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw Nori dart back into the warehouse. Dís was standing stiffly, her whole body trembling with rage.

“I know you have people on the roof,” Azog said. His voice was grating, like a shoe scraping along the pavement. “Put your weapons down, now.” He slid a knife from his belt, Fíli’s jacket still gripped in the other hand.

“Do it,” Thorin hissed, and everyone fumbled to place their guns on the ground.

“I’d say it’s a pretty fair trade,” Alfrid said, holding his hands out. “What’s a few boxes of food, as long as the family’s together?”

“Thorin,” Dís said, her voice low and pleading, in contrast to the murderous glare she was giving Azog.

“I know,” he said, his whole body almost seeming to shake with the magnitude of the choice put in front of him.

The next few heartbeats of silence seemed to last an eternity. The rage coming from their group was palpable, sizzling against the cool cruelty of the other. But all Bilbo could see was Fíli, his hair falling into his face, his hands pressed against his sides. His form was nothing more than a sliver next to Azog’s bulk.

Thorin straightened. “We…” He went still. “We accept your terms.”

“You.” Azog lifted a finger, and Bilbo realized with a jolt that he was pointing at him. His lips parted to reveal a wolflike grin. “Come and get him.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Bilbo stepped forward, careful of the collection of guns on the ground. Thorin put a hand out, as if to stop him.

“It’s okay,” Bilbo whispered to him. “I-I’ll bring him back.”

Thorin turned away, lowering his hand, and Bilbo continued on. Each step across the parking lot was drowned out by the thumping pulse echoing in his ears. The dog lunged again, and Bilbo couldn’t help but flinch slightly. Its bulk could have knocked him over easily.

He could feel Azog’s unnerving gaze boring into him, but he kept his focus on Fíli as he approached. When he was only a few feet away, Azog let go and shoved him forward. Fíli stumbled the rest of the way into his arms.

“It’s okay,” Bilbo whispered, holding him close. Fíli let out a barely-concealed sob and clung to him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He looked up and met Azog’s eyes, the cruel amusement carved into his face.

Bilbo had never truly hated anyone before. The angriest he’d ever been was when someone crashed their shopping cart into his brand new car in the supermarket parking lot and scratched the paint. But looking at the man in front of him, he considered Azog very lucky that he’d left his gun on the ground back there.

“Come on,” he said, turning his attention back to Fíli. He adjusted his grip so that the two of them could walk side by side, and headed back towards their group. “Come on. You’re okay.” Fíli was still shaking badly, and Bilbo had to stop more than once to steady him.

They were halfway across when Bilbo caught the barest hiss of laughter behind him, followed by the slick sound of leather hitting the ground. He turned around just in time to see the dog running at them at full speed.

“Go!” he shouted, shoving Fíli in front of him.

They broke into a run, but Bilbo had only taken a couple steps before a weight collided with his back and sent him sprawling. The hot, snarling breath of the dog washed over the back of his neck. He cried out and tried to roll onto his back and dislodge the paws digging into his shoulder blades.

A sharp pain clamped around his shoulder, and he cried out again. The dog growled and readjusted its bite, reigniting the agony in his upper arm. Bilbo fumbled for his gun, fingers scraping against the pavement, and realized he’d left it behind.

A gunshot cracked across the parking lot, and the weight on his back lifted. Bilbo pushed himself up, gasping, in time to see the dog flop onto the ground and lie still. Azog roared, the sound both agonized and terrifying, and lifted his rifle.

“Bilbo!” Thorin shouted, and the air was filled with explosions.

Desperately, Bilbo dove for cover behind their truck, which was parked nearby. Blood had soaked through his sleeve and was running down his arm, but he barely felt it.

The rest of the group had taken cover behind the wooden barricades, which were barely big enough to shield all of them. Splinters flew into the air as bullets tore through the barriers.

With his back against one of the barriers, Thorin shot Bilbo a wide-eyed glance. Most of their weapons had been left on the ground, but Thorin had his gun—he must have been the one to shoot the dog.

Bilbo flinched as a bullet ricocheted off the ground just near his foot. If he tried to make it to the others, he’d be dead before he could get halfway.

Something shiny passed over his head. At first, Bilbo didn’t think much of it, but then a rushing sound billowed out from behind, followed by a wave of heat. He peeked around the car as someone screamed.

The hood of one of the trucks was on fire. The man who had been holding the leash stumbled back as flames crawled up his arm. Breathing hard, Bilbo glanced back at the roof in time to see Nori lob a bottle stuffed with a rag at the other group.

“Fuck off, you sons of bitches!”

“Bilbo!” Thorin gestured for him, and he realized this would probably be his only chance to make it to safety. He pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp twinge in his shoulder, and sprinted for the wooden barricades.

A bullet shattered the wood beam just behind his ankle, close enough for him to feel the rush of air as it passed, but Dwalin pulled him behind cover just in time.

“Everyone inside, now!” Thorin shouted as more gunshots filled the air. He and Dwalin took up positions on either side and began firing back at Azog’s group.

“Come on!” Dori grabbed him by his good arm and nearly dragged him inside.

They gathered in a semicircle just inside the door, breathing hard. Fíli had his arms wrapped around Dís, who was clinging to him just as tightly. A moment later, Thorin and Dwalin ran inside and slammed the doors shut.

“We need to cover all the exits,” Thorin said. He pushed one of the metal racks into place as Dori grabbed the other. “The side doors, the back— Make sure you’re behind cover. We can still—”

The doors exploded inwards.

Bilbo gasped as the store was flooded with light, then dove behind a shelf as bullets flew inside. Dís and Fíli were right beside him, and a quick glance around confirmed that everyone had made it to cover. Everyone except—

The remaining truck had crashed through the doors and knocked down the racks, and Dori was pinned underneath. He strained to push it off as Azog stepped out of the truck.

“Run!”

Azog’s arm extended in an almost lazy motion. His finger squeezed the trigger, the gunshot like a shrug. Dori’s head jerked to the side, and blood sprayed across the floor.

Bilbo threw himself back against the shelf, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.  _ No, no, nonono— _

Dís grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. Tears were running down her face. “Come on! We have to go!”

“No,” Bilbo said, even as his traitorous feet began to move at the sound of a revving engine. “We can’t—We can’t just leave—”

He caught a glimpse of Víli and Dwalin running on the other side of the store, but it was only a flash before the truck barreled through, hurling bullets from all four windows. A cardboard display for office supplies exploded as the truck crashed into it.

Where was Thorin, and Kíli and Brana? Did the people on the roof know what was happening? Did Nori and Ori know—

A shelf full of dishware exploded to their left, raining ceramic shards and bits of plastic down on them. Bilbo cried out, and he, Dís and Fíli collapsed behind another shelf.

The truck drove past, its crashing bulk almost as loud as the gunshots. Underneath it all, Bilbo could hear the demented laughter of the men inside.

“W-We need to find—”

“We need to get out of here, okay?” Dís made to grab his shoulder, but stopped herself as she noticed the blood. “W-We need to get Fíli out of here. We’ll come back if we need to.”

Bilbo took in a shaky breath, running his hands across his face. “Okay. Okay.”

Dís looked down at Fíli, who was curled up at her side. “We need to be ready to run again.”

“Mom,” he said, tearfully. “I-I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this.”

“I know, baby.” She brushed his hair out of his face, revealing the swollen bruise on his cheek. “But we have to, alright? I need you to be brave, just a little longer.”

Bilbo pushed himself up and went to take Fíli’s other hand. If he couldn’t be strong for himself, then he would be strong for him. “We’ll be right beside you.”

The three of them stood together and sprinted for the back. They kept close to the wall, though the trail of destruction the truck had left through the center was clearly visible. Their kitchen area had been destroyed, their mugs scattered in shards along the floor.

The truck was stalled at the back of the store as they tried to figure out how to turn it around in the narrow space. It would have been comical in any other situation. But it gave them time to make it to the doors.

They stumbled into the backroom, and Bilbo yelped as the barrel of a gun was shoved in his face.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of us.” Nori stepped back and lowered his weapon. He glanced around at the crowd of wide-eyed people in the dim space. “Is that everyone?”

Something in his chest tightened. Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, but everyone started as the backroom door swung open again.

Alfrid stared at them, open-mouthed, for a moment. His hand went for his gun, but Nori shot him in the face before he’d even gotten it out of the holster.

Just outside, someone shouted, “They’re in there!”

“Shit,” Thorin said. “We need to move.” They all rushed towards the fire door, but paused as they noticed it was boarded up.

“I got it.” Dwalin stepped forward, lifting his axe. With a roar, he swung down, and demolished the boards in two strokes.

The backroom door opened again, and a gunshot cracked across the space. Someone screamed.

“Go!” Thorin shouted, pushing them back with one hand and firing his gun with the other. “Get out!”

It was a mad dash of stumbling limbs and grasping hands as they poured out into the cold once more, across the pavement and into the trees. Bilbo didn’t know how long they ran, or when the gunshots stopped, only that each snapping twig delivered another jolt of terror that spurred him on further.

Balin was the first to collapse, and everyone came to a halt shortly afterwards. Bilbo sat down against a tree, barely feeling the snow begin to soak into his pants, and tried to catch his breath.

“Stay alert,” Thorin said, his voice ragged. “We might need to move again soon.”

Víli, hugging Kíli to his chest, fell to his knees. Dís and Fíli joined them, and the four of them sat in a tight knot. Dwalin knelt down to check on his brother. Bifur and Bofur both helped to steady Bombur as he caught his breath.

Nori turned in a circle, nearly staggering. “That’s sixteen. Who are we missing?”

Bilbo put his head in his hands, feeling a sob building his chest. His shoulder was throbbing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“We lost Dori,” Dwalin said, lowly. “That bastard killed him.”

Nori let out a breath that seemed to deflate his wiry frame. “What?”

“Brana!” Glóin’s cry cut through the trees. “Oh god,  _ no _ !”

The terror in her voice was enough to make Bilbo stand again, and they all rushed over to see what had happened.

Brana was sitting against a tree not to far away, tears streaking her face. Glóin was kneeling next to her, one hand pressed against her stomach. Blood was leaking through her fingers.

“Move,” Óin pushed his way to the front and knelt on her other side.

“It was—when we were in the back—” Brana managed in between sobs.

Óin inspected the wound for a moment, then sat back on his heels. “The bullet grazed you. That’s it. We need to stop the bleeding, alright? You’re going to be fine.”

Bofur stepped forward to offer a piece of cloth. Glóin put her arms around Brana’s shoulders and buried her face in her neck.

Bilbo turned away, putting one hand on a nearby tree to steady himself. They’d almost lost Fíli, and the thought of losing the baby as well was almost to horrible to consider. And Dori…

He took a couple of breaths to try and quell the nausea rising in his gut. When he looked up, he saw Thorin standing at the edge of the clearing, watching for any sign of Azog’s men. Or maybe he was looking back at what they’d just lost.

Stumbling footsteps carried him across that distance, until he was standing just behind him. It wasn’t enough, not after what had happened today, but all he wanted in that moment was to close the distance between Thorin and the others.

“Thorin,” he said, the word barely audible. “That...That wasn’t you back there. That wasn’t on you. Okay?”

“Don’t say that.” Thorin turned away, but not before Bilbo caught a glimpse of his red rimmed eyes.

He made to walk away, and desperation gripped him. Bilbo reached out, taking hold of his coat, and pulled him back. Surprisingly, Thorin went.

An unspeakable need drove him forward, and Bilbo wrapped his arms around his waist, ignoring the jab of pain in his shoulder. “You’re okay,” he whispered, pressing his head into Thorin’s chest. “You’re okay.”

A long moment passed, then Thorin put his arms around Bilbo’s shoulders and leaned into him. And Bilbo shuddered—from the pain, from the pressure of Thorin’s body, from the horror of all that had been torn away from them.

  
  



	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention/short discussion of suicide in this chapter. Nothing happens though.

**Chapter 20**

 

“They tried to make me tell them how to get in. But I didn’t. I didn’t tell them.”

The clearing was silent, not even the wind making a sound in the bare trees above. Fíli was curled up against a tree, Dís on one side and Kíli and Víli on the other. Óin had wrapped a scarf around some snow to use as a makeshift icepack for the bruise on his face, which had swelled to a dark purple. Kíli reached out to take his brother’s hand.

“You did good.” Víli reached over to ruffle his hair. “We’re proud of you.”

Fíli said nothing, only leaning down to rest his chin on his knees.

Bilbo was shaking, for a number of reasons. He was cold, having forgotten his coat back in the warehouse, and his wound was throbbing, pain licking at his shoulder like an open flame. But more than that, he was absolutely furious. The thought that there were people out there who would hurt a little boy for any reason sparked an all-consuming rage within him. The thought that they would smirk about it, that they would laugh at destruction and fire a bullet at a pregnant woman—it made him sick. It made him think, darkly, that perhaps it was for the best that most of humanity was dead by now, if that was what they were capable of.

Glóin seemed to be having similar thoughts. She stood and rested one hand on the gun at her hip. “I’m going back there,” she said, her voice nearly a growl, “and I’m going to kill every last one of those bastards.”

Beside her, Brana was sitting, bundled in Dís’s coat since she’d also forgotten her own. Tears were still streaming down her face, but Óin had promised that she wasn’t in any life-threatening danger. At the very least, the wound on her stomach had stopped bleeding a while ago, and her face didn’t look quite as drawn as it had before.

“We can’t,” Dís said. “We can’t go back. They took the place, and we’re missing half our weapons.”

Bifur grunted in agreement, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. “Not like we’re about to go the kidnapping route, too.”

Dís shot him a look, but Fíli looked as if he’d barely heard.

Almost everyone turned to look at Thorin. He was standing at the edge of the clearing, his face pale but unreadable. The last time he’d spoken had been when he’d asked Óin to take a look at Bilbo’s shoulder. After that, he’d moved back and fallen silent. Bilbo would have called it a retreat if it had been anyone else.

It took him a moment to respond to their collective questioning stare. “We can’t go back. We don’t have the weapons or the resources. We need to start looking for food,” he glanced at Bilbo and Brana, “and medicine.”

“We need to look for formula,” Glóin muttered, then put her face in her hands. “ _ Fuck _ .”

They’d left behind boxes upon boxes of it back there, along with diapers and food and their beds and mugs and...and  _ Dori _ …

A chilly silence swept over the group.

Kíli untangled his hand from Fíli’s and reached behind to slip his backpack off his shoulders. He set it on his lap and unzipped the bag, which was decorated with dinosaurs. “I have some stuff.” He pulled out a bag of trail mix, a candy bar, and some canned fruit.

“The seven-year-old packed a go bag,” Bifur muttered.

Dís leaned over as Kíli pulled out a flashlight, his DS, and a juice box. “Honey, why do you have all this stuff?”

“I was gonna go look for Fíli if you guys didn’t find him,” Kíli half-mumbled, looking defensive. “I needed supplies.”

Víli reached over and pulled a lighter out of the pack. “Where did you—it doesn’t matter.” He stowed it away in his jacket pocket.

“Well, it’s certainly something,” Balin said, standing with a wince.

“We should get moving,” Thorin said. “We need to find shelter before it gets dark. We don’t know if they plan on coming after us.”

Glóin turned to him with a frown. “Thorin—”

“He’s right,” Brana said, straightening with a wince. “We can’t stay here.” She put a hand on her belly, and Glóin and Bofur rushed to help her stand up.

Bilbo looked up as Bombur extended a hand towards him. “Thanks.” He stood, letting out a sharp breath as his shoulder gave a nasty twinge. The joint was stiff from the makeshift bandage Óin had wrapped around it, but it still hurt tremendously.

“You okay?” Bombur asked, patting him on his good arm.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be—” He suppressed a shiver and shifted his weight. “It’s not too bad.”

He’d gotten far from the worst of it, he thought, looking at Ori, huddled against a large root jutting from the ground. It took a few tries, but Balin managed to rouse him and get him moving. He stumbled at first, eyes wide and distant.

Looking around, it seemed as if Nori was gone from their group, but then Bilbo spotted him up ahead, moving stiffly next to Thorin and Bifur. He swallowed back a wave of nausea and began walking.

At the very least, Dori wouldn’t turn. It was a small mercy, just a sliver compared to the massive wave of grief that was hanging over them, threatening to crash down at any moment.

He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. Their group continued through the forest, their steps no steadier than the walkers’.

* * *

 

Two days later, Bilbo woke to the sound of his own chattering teeth. He sat up, shivers making his movements unsteady, and looked around. Most of the group was already up and making preparations to start moving again. They’d all slept on the ground the last two nights, huddled around a small fire to try and ward off the cold, but evidently he’d lost what little heat they’d managed to preserve.

They’d been trudging through the woods with no sign of civilization so far. Supplies had dwindled down to nothing, and most of the food from Kíli’s pack had gone to Brana, who could barely walk. Glóin had managed to shoot a rabbit, but it had been a pathetic meal between the sixteen of them.

“Rise and shine,” Víli said, walking over. “You okay? You’re not looking too hot.”

“I don’t feel hot at all,” he mumbled. He’d been feeling steadily worse over the past few days, his shoulder growing more painful until it was a constant throbbing presence that left his right arm practically useless. But there was no point in complaining, not when they were all injured or going hungry or grieving. Or all three.

All they could do now was press on. He pushed himself to his feet, and a white, buzzing sensation overtook his senses. He didn’t remember falling, but his injured shoulder hit the ground first, and he cried out as an awful stabbing sensation radiated out from the point.

When the pain subsided, he realized Víli was kneeling over him, pulling him up by his good arm. He pressed the backs of his fingers to Bilbo’s forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up.” He turned to call over his shoulder, “Óin, we need you.”

Tears pricked his eyes as the burning in his shoulder grew worse. More people were crowding around, looking down at him with concern.

Óin knelt down next to him and pulled back the collar of his shirt, prodding at the makeshift bandages beneath. “It’s probably infected.” He let out a harsh sigh. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I-I didn’t know,” Bilbo whispered. “This is all kind of new to me. I don’t get bit by rabid dogs that often.”

Víli looked at Óin, eyes wide. “Do you think…?”

“I’ve had my shots,” he said. “I was just exaggerating.”

But the panicked look did not leave his eyes. With a sinking sensation, Bilbo realized that he’d been  _ bit _ . By a dog, yes, and one that had been alive as far as he knew, but there was still the chance…

“I-It’s probably nothing.” Víli squeezed his knee after seeing the growing panic on his face. “The virus kills everyone within a couple days. It’s been longer than that.”

“Either way, he’s not looking great.” Óin looked up as Thorin approached. “He’s going to need antibiotics. And soon.”

Bilbo dropped his head onto his knees with a small groan, still shivering. They were stranded in the middle of the woods, starving and cold and injured. And he’d probably be dead in a couple days or so, if that. They would all have to watch him be consumed by fever and pain, and afterwards…

Would he know, when he turned? Would a small part of him still be inside, trapped and unable to do anything but watch? Would he feel it, when they were forced to kill him?

A warm heat dropped over his shoulders, jolting him out of his thoughts. He looked up in time to see Thorin walking away, now wearing only a thin pullover.

“I’m making a run, for antibiotics and any other supplies I can find,” he said.

Víli turned to look at him. “Now isn’t the time to be splitting off from the group. Why don’t we—”

“I’ll move faster on my own.” Thorin gave him a look that brooked no argument. “And we can’t be wasting time with this.”

“I’m coming with you,” Nori said, stepping next to him. “You’ll need someone to watch your back.” Everyone turned to look at him. It was the most he’d said in the past two days.

“Alright.” Thorin made to leave, then turned back to the others. “If we’re not back by this time tomorrow, just keep moving east.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something, maybe a “thank you” or a “be careful,” but the words were stuck in his throat. He reached up to pull Thorin’s coat tighter around himself.

“Come on.” Víli and Óin helped him move back against one of the trees. “Just rest, for now.”

He settled back, then winced and readjusted his position as his shoulder protested violently. Once he was settled, Óin walked over to Thorin and began rattling off a list of medicines he would need.

Kíli walked over, his pack tucked under one arm, and offered him the juice box. “My mom gives us juice when we’re sick sometimes.”

“That’s alright. I’m not very thirsty.” Bilbo offered him a weak smile. It didn’t feel right to take any food, not when they had so little—even if his stomach had been growling for the past few days.

“You’d best take it,” Óin said, reappearing at his side. Thorin and Nori had already gone. “You’ll need to stay hydrated, keep your strength up. Hopefully Thorin brings some water back from his suicide mission.”

Bilbo shot him a look. “Don’t say things like that.”

Óin only grunted and walked away.

Kíli sat down next to him and drew his knees up to his chest. “What’s suicide?”

He suppressed a groan. “Óin was only exaggerating. Don’t worry about it.”

“But what is it?”

“It’s…” He let out a sigh. After all they’d been through, it was more of a fantasy than anything to try and protect the boys from the darker aspects of humanity. The very least he could do was try and help him understand it. “When someone is, um, not feeling right, then they might want to die. Suicide is when they try and cause their own death.”

Kíli’s face was somber as he tried to process the information. “Oh.”

“But that’s  _ not _ what Thorin is trying to do. He wants to help all of us, and sometimes that means putting himself in danger.”

“Do you wanna die because you’re sick?”

“No, no! I’d really rather not, all things considered.” He reached out to squeeze Kíli’s hand. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

But the furrow in Kíli’s brow only deepened. “What about Fíli? He doesn’t talk to me anymore. He doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“No,” Bilbo said, and swallowed hard. The thought of it was too sickening to bear. “Fíli was in a...bad situation, but we’re all looking out for him. He’ll come back to his old self eventually. You just have to be patient with him.”

“Okay.” Kíli shot a glum glance in the direction of his brother, who was sitting in silence, idly pushing a rock through the dirt with the tip of his shoe. Dís was not far from him, as usual.

“In the meantime, you can spend some time with me,” Bilbo said. “I’m afraid I’m not much fun right now, but I’d enjoy your company.”

“Okay.” Kíli scooted over and snuggled against him, and Bilbo felt a burst of warmth fill his shivering body.

* * *

 

The windows of the hospital looked like broken teeth, filled with jagged shards. Thorin spotted a leg dangling out of one, and watched it for a while to make sure it wasn’t moving.

It had only taken them a few hours to come across a highway cutting through the woods, and from there they’d followed it to the closest town. It looked abandoned for the most part, but Thorin still tensed at every rattling gust of wind. He’d nearly fired at a darting shape which turned out to be nothing more than a squirrel.

“There’ll probably be tons inside,” Nori said. “Walkers.”

The hospitals had been the first places to be overrun, as infected people had crowded there before everyone realized what was happening. The one back home had burned down during the chaos—allegedly, since Thorin had no doubt the military had been trying to contain the outbreak. It had been a useless attempt in the end.

“We’ll see how far we can get,” Thorin said. “I don’t want to spend too much time looking for a pharmacy in town.”

“Fine by me,” Nori said, rolling his shoulders, and the two of them headed for the front doors.

Thorin shot him a sidelong glance. Nori had been exceptionally quiet since they’d lost the warehouse, the air around him devoid of his usual quips and casual demeanor. He didn’t blame him at all—he knew all too well what it was like to lose a brother, the raw pain that came with it. And knowing this, he hoped desperately that Nori wouldn’t try anything stupid if they ran into danger.

The front doors had been busted open, and bits of broken glass crunched as they stepped over them. Dark stains clung to the edges of the glass and were smeared along the doorframe.

The lobby was filthy, scattered with rotting leaves from last season, long stains of mud and darker liquids, and crumpled, water-stained papers. The room went dark a few feet past the entrance, so Thorin clicked on the flashlight he’d borrowed from Kíli. It was low on battery and cast a pathetically dim beam, but it was better than nothing.

They checked the gift shop first, which was a little difficult to navigate between the overturned racks and other debris. The glass cabinets near the register had been smashed open, the jewelry inside dragged out. Thorin scoffed lowly. This place must have been ransacked in the early days, before people knew how to prioritize.

Nori picked out a large brown handbag and, with a shrug, started filling it with candy and snacks that had spilled onto the floor. Thorin began collecting scarves, pullovers, and anything else that would help them with the cold. He was already feeling the chill from his lack of a jacket, but shrugged it off. Bilbo needed it more than he did.

The image of him, shivering on the ground with gray-tinged skin and glassy eyes, pulled hard at the knot of worry in his chest. He’d been so preoccupied with their losses, with finding a new safe place for the group, that he’d missed that Bilbo was sick.

He couldn’t lose him, not after...after everything.

A low scraping noise caught his attention, and he turned back towards the lobby.

“Walker,” Nori whispered. “I got it.” He stepped nimbly over a fallen rack of t-shirts and headed out the door. Thorin followed him through in time to see him jam a knife into a walker’s head, right beneath its jaw, then lower it carefully to the ground.

They stood silently for a moment, listening out for any others that might be approaching, but the hospital stayed eerily silent. Thorin raised his flashlight and they continued on.

Not too far in, the light flashed across a blue and white sign that read  _ Cafeteria _ . Nori let out an appreciative grunt. “Might be able to get some real food in there.”

“Let’s not forget about the meds, though,” Thorin said as they headed for the double doors. In his back pocket was a list of unpronounceable names Óin had given him, all antibiotics that would hopefully be able to treat Bilbo. Ori had volunteered the paper and pen, scavenged from one of his jacket pockets. On the other side of the crumpled paper was a messy drawing of a cat.

Nori pushed open the door, then immediately cursed and jumped back as a walker grabbed at him.

Thorin lunged forward, slipping his knife from his belt, and jabbed it into the walker’s eye. He let it fall past him, into the hallway, and scanned the room for more. Another one was staggering towards him but Nori, recovering from his shock, stepped forward and dispatched it quickly.

“Not too bad so far,” Thorin murmured, scanning the rest of the room with his flashlight. A corpse was sprawled on one of the tables, but didn’t move.

“Maybe most of them scattered outside,” Nori said as he headed for the back. “Looking for fresh meat.”

That would explain the stains on the doors outside. Thorin glanced at the salad bar, which was now filled with scraps of rotting food, and moved on.

Nori pushed open the door to the kitchen and made for the storeroom. The door was already open, and even from a distance they could see the torn-open boxes and empty cans inside.

“Fucking  _ shit _ .” Nori kicked one of the cans, and it hit the far wall with a sharp  _ clang _ .

“Quiet,” Thorin hissed at him. He turned and scanned the kitchen again, the light bouncing off the stainless steel surfaces, but nothing moved. “Let’s search it anyway. Whoever was here first might have left something.”

Nori let out a stream of curses under his breath, but stepped into the storeroom anyway. Thorin continued scanning the kitchen, and the glint of something sharp caught his eye. A set of knives were hanging on the wall, held in place by a magnetic panel. They weren’t ideal, but they would be useful given their recent loss of weapons.

He walked closer, and his eyes fell on a gap between two of the blades, where one of them had been taken from the wall.

Quick footsteps sounded behind him, and Thorin turned in time to see a scrawny man lunge at him, the missing blade coming down towards his chest. He grabbed the man’s wrist with one hand, pushing it to the side, and sidestepped the blow. Grabbing his elbow with his other hand, he used the man’s momentum to spin him around and send him crashing against the metal counter. The knife clattered to the floor.

Behind him, Thorin could hear Nori rushing to help, but the man was already scrambling away on all fours.

“Wait, wait! Please—”

The gun was already in his hand, adrenaline setting his veins alight. He could see Azog’s grinning face, Fíli’s bruise, the fire, Dori’s blood. He could see the debris on the floor of their old home.

The shot rang through the kitchen, and the man fell still as red sprayed from the back of his head.

“Shit,” Nori breathed, then rushed for the doors as a low  _ thump _ sounded outside. “There’s another one!”

They sprinted through the doors just as a second man darted back into the hallway. Thorin ran after him, his gun at the ready. Blood was roaring in his ears, a panicked rage filling his lungs. They couldn’t let him get away.

The hallway was empty by the time they burst through the double doors. Nori nudged him and pointed to the stairwell door just as it swung shut.

“Son of a bitch is fast.”

“Come on,” Thorin said, and rushed over to wrench the door back open. They could hear the man’s footsteps and panicked breaths echoing in the narrow space as they ran after him.

The door leading to the third floor slammed shut. As they reached the landing, a strange scraping sound was audible on the other side. Thorin didn’t stop to guess what it was. His heart was pounding as he burst through the door, and it was too late by the time he registered the growls of the walkers.

Dozens of rotting corpses flooded the hallway from a set of double doors, tripping over each other in their haste. The man was nowhere to be seen. Thorin backed up, shooting the closest one in the head. In seconds, the walkers had blocked the door to the stairwell.

“Run!’

They were much faster than the walkers, but it wasn’t long before they reached a dead end. Thorin yanked on the handle of the door in front of them, but it was locked.

“In here!” Nori grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the room to the right.

He slammed the door behind him. They stood in the dark, breathing hard, then jumped as a walker slammed against the glass window. A dozen more followed it soon after, and soon the crowd outside was at least forty deep, maybe more. Thorin couldn’t see much beyond the three walkers in front smearing viscera against the glass.

“Well,” Nori said, indicating their surroundings.

The room was narrow, made narrower by the two desks taking up either side. Each contained a couple of computer monitors and just above, small shelves of pill bottles.

“At least we’re in the right place.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have a particular canon equivalent for the two guys in the hospital. Since it's around the same geographical area, I guess you can think of them as goblins. (Kind of disappointed I didn't work in a cannibal storyline with the goblins, but it didn't really fit anywhere.)
> 
> Halfway through writing that last scene I realized Thorin and Nori have a sort of Rick&Daryl dynamic going on, which makes me wish there were more fics where they interact. (In case you haven't guessed, they're my two favorite dwarves lol)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saw that this fic reached 500 kudos holy shit! Thank you so much to everyone who had read and supported this story, it means a tremendous amount to me!

**Chapter 21**

 

The tree bark dug into his hands, but Bilbo gripped it tight until the wave of dizziness had passed. He took a deep breath and winced as his shoulder gave another nasty throb.

It was nighttime now, and they hadn’t seen any sign of Thorin or Nori. When he wasn’t worrying about them, he was stuck in a hazy half-doze. His fever had gotten worse, and just walking a short distance to relieve himself had sapped most of his energy.

Balin, who was sitting on watch, looked up as he stumbled back to camp. “You all right?” He made to stand, but Bilbo waved him away.

“I’ll be fine. Just need to get some rest.”

He staggered past Balin and out of his line of sight, then leaned heavily against another tree. The sun had set a few hours ago, as far as he remembered, so they had...what? Another ten, twelve hours before Thorin had ordered them to move on? He didn’t know if the group would be able to do it, not after everything they’d lost so far.

And Thorin had gone, had risked his life to try and save Bilbo’s. He would do the same for anyone in the group, but the thought that he might not come back…

A small sob wavered through the air, followed by a louder sniffle.

Blinking back a wave of dizziness, Bilbo looked around. Everyone except for Balin, Bifur, and Dwalin was asleep, some more restfully than others. His eyes finally landed on Fíli’s shaking form, curled up near the rest of his family. He thought for a moment that he was crying in his sleep, but then he saw Fíli reach up to wipe his cheeks.

“Fíli,” he whispered, taking a step towards him, but his strength finally failed him, and he fell to his knees. His hands shot out to break his fall, and a white-hot burst of pain shot from his shoulder all the way down to his toes.

Bilbo hissed through his teeth and took several deep breaths to ride out the agony radiating from his wound. It didn’t seem like this was going to be an easy death.

“Bilbo?” Fíli’s sneakers shuffled almost silently across the ground as he went to squat down beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Ah.”  He shifted his weight back onto his heels, testing his balance. There was no easy answer to that question. “My shoulder hurts, that’s all.” He decided that moving again wasn’t the wisest option, and carefully lowered himself onto his back.

Fíli gave another sob, quickly concealed in his sleeve. He was wearing his blue sweater, the same he’d been wearing the first day they’d met, though now it was thoroughly stained with mud and had worn through in more than a few places.

“Do you want to talk to me?” Bilbo asked, wishing he had the energy to hug him.

“No.” Fíli stayed where he was, crouched with his arms around his knees. “ I don’t know.”

“I don’t want you to be upset.”

“But...But it’s my fault.” He sniffled again and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“What do you mean?”

“I-It’s ‘cause of me that those guys came back and attacked us. I got caught, and n-now you’re sick, and Uncle Dori d-died…” He trailed off as his sobs began to distort his words.

“Oh, Fíli.” An ache appeared in his chest, duller but somehow far worse than the pain in his shoulder. “Come here, now.” He patted the empty space next to him.

Fíli went and laid down in the spot next to him, though he kept his face hidden in his hands.

“Those were evil men, back there,” Bilbo said. “And I am so sorry that you had to go through that. But it was because of them, not you, that all of this has happened. They could have taken any one of us, but they knew how scared your parents would be if they…” He took a breath as rage joined the ache in his chest. “If they took you. In all honesty, we should have been the ones to make sure that never happened to you in the first place.”

“That’s what mom and dad keep saying.” Fíli took his hands away, though tears still streamed down his face. “But I wasn’t tough. I was too scared to do anything.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?”

Fíli dragged his sleeve across his face. “What?”

“We’re all afraid. Every one of us. We all get scared when we come across walkers or people like the ones that attacked us. And that’s perfectly normal.”

He frowned. “Even Uncle Thorin?”

“Of course. Perhaps more so than the rest of us, because he has the need to take responsibility for every single thing that goes wrong.” He sighed. “The point is, there is nothing wrong with being afraid. It doesn’t make you a bad person. And we will all still love you, no matter what.”

“Okay.” Fíli’s lip trembled, and he looked as if he wanted to start crying again. But some of the tension in his brow had loosened.

Bilbo smiled and reached over to brush his hair out of his face, careful of his bruise. “Why don’t you go get some sleep, then?”

“What about you?”

“I think I’m going to just sleep right here.” His smile faltered slightly. “I am just too tired to move.”

Fíli pushed himself up and padded away. He returned a moment later with Thorin’s coat, as well as Bofur’s and Bombur’s. The two brothers had both volunteered theirs to keep him warm despite his protests. He carefully laid them across so Bilbo was as covered as he could be. “‘Night, Bilbo.”

“Goodnight, Fíli,” he said, blinking back his own tears at the sweet gesture. He watched him walk back to his spot and curl up next to Dís. Whatever happened tomorrow, he could rest easy knowing Fíli was at least somewhat at peace with what had happened. 

A disturbing thought struck him. If he took a turn for the worse in the middle of the night and...and turned, would anyone notice? Would anyone be able to stop him before he attacked someone?

He frowned and shifted, wondering if he should ask someone on watch to keep an eye on him, but his energy was already fading. Before long, exhaustion had claimed him.

* * *

 

The glass was breaking.

Thorin swore under his breath and checked the room again, peering into drawers and boxes, but there was nothing that would help them escape. He nearly slipped on a loose pill bottle and kicked it under the desk with more force than necessary.

They’d been able to find the medicine for Bilbo, but it would be useless as long as they were stuck in this damn room with an army of walkers clamoring outside.

Nori stepped onto the desk and pushed up against one of the ceiling panels. The structure was too flimsy to hold their weight—escaping up there wasn’t an option, but it seemed Nori had something else in mind. He slipped one of the panels down and held it up against the window in the door.

They waited for a minute, but the snarling on the other side didn’t let up.

He sighed and shrugged. “You’d think they’d let up if they couldn’t see us anymore, yeah?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they can still smell us.”

A sharp  _ crack _ echoed through the room, followed by the sound of grinding glass, and Nori jumped back as a grasping hand jabbed the ceiling panel.

The walkers widened the hole they’d just created, tearing their own rotting flesh on the jagged edges. Their growls became more pronounced, along with a nearly unbearable stench. Thorin was sure they hadn’t smelled this bad when the outbreak had first started.

One of the walkers reached out blindly and its hand brushed against the doorknob, making it jiggle. Thorin leapt forward and jabbed his knife through the top of the walker’s skull. It slumped against the window frame, the bodies behind it keeping it upright.

Nori drew his own knife. “Maybe we can pick them off one by one.”

“There’s too many.” Thorin scanned the shifting crowd. Even if they did manage to take out the majority of the walkers from the window, the pile of bodies would still barricade them inside. They didn’t have enough ammo to take them out from a distance, either.

“We need a distraction. Something to draw them away.”

Thorin sent another fruitless glance around the room. There was nothing they could  _ use _ . Despair was beginning to creep in, a slow trickle down his spine. The sun was already going down. If they didn’t make it back to Bilbo in time…

Nori was laughing, lowly. It was a strange, crooked sound amidst the growls of the walkers. For all his sarcasm and quips, Thorin realized, Nori rarely laughed. He turned to find him sitting on one of the desks, legs dangling over the edge.

“Fucking Molotov cocktails…” The lines around his eyes hardened as he gazed out the window.

“Nori,” Thorin said, glancing at the walkers straining against the door. This wasn’t an ideal moment to talk about what had happened back at the warehouse. But then again, maybe it would be their only chance. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was trying to be a big shot, trying to show off. I wanted to light those bastards on fucking fire.” His gaze fell to his hands. “If I’d been on the ground, things might have turned out differently.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It was me. I shot first.”

That was the decision that haunted him the most, more than giving the warehouse up for Fíli. He’d agreed to the trade, but Dís had made the decision for him. She wouldn’t have let him choose anything else.

But seeing Bilbo on the ground, weaponless and bleeding and in pain, had set off something feral and impulsive inside him. He’d snatched up his gun and killed the dog without a second thought. He’d been the one to instigate the firefight. If he hadn’t...if he had chosen to let Bilbo die beneath that dog, then maybe there would have been a chance to get everyone back inside. Maybe, somehow, they could have kept the warehouse afterwards.

Maybe Dori would still be alive.

Nori pushed himself off the desk and readied his knife. “Well, only one of us needs to make it back, right? If I can push through that herd, I could lead them away. Might get bit in the process, but—”

“ _ No _ .” Thorin straightened, prepared to stop him if he tried to make for the door. “We’re not making any more sacrifices. Both of us are making it out.”

“Well, we don’t always get to choose, do we?”

“Not always.” He could feel a slight tremor in his hands. But if someone had to choose, it was going to be him. It had to be. “What is Ori going to think if I don’t bring you back?”

Nori stood stiffly for a long moment, then slowly slid his knife back into its sheath. “Yeah, I guess I’d be kind of a selfish bastard if I decided to just off myself right now.”

Thorin reached out and took hold of his arm, hoping the touch would help ground him somewhat. “Let’s find a way out of here.”

Nori shook himself slightly, then turned around. “Well, we haven’t tried the window yet.”

“We’re three floors up.” The best they could hope for was a twisted ankle, and even that was a death sentence with walkers around.

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way down.” He crossed the room and, with a sharp tug, pulled the curtain rod from above the window.

Thorin crossed his arms as Nori used his knife to begin cutting the curtain into strips. “You can’t be serious.”

“If I can climb down to the second floor, I can come back up and around and get the walkers away from the door.” He glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Unless you have a better suggestion.”

“How do you know that’s going to hold?” Thorin asked as Nori began tying the fabric together.

“Because I tie good knots. These’ll hold.” He stood up, a familiar steely glint coming back into his eyes. “I want to get out of here, get back to the others. Not like I’m going to fall to my death and leave you stuck here.”

“Fine.”

They tied the makeshift rope around Nori’s waist, with Thorin taking hold of the other end. He didn’t want to risk tying it to any of the shelves that could come flying loose in an instant.

“Alright.” Nori opened the window and swung one leg over the windowsill. “Don’t get eaten while I’m gone, yeah?”

“Right,” Thorin muttered. He had the scratchy fabric of the curtain wrapped multiple times around both hands.

Nori swung his other leg over and lowered himself so he was supported by his arms. “And don’t drop me, okay?”

“Got it,” he said, gritting his teeth as more of Nori’s weight was added to the rope. He took a step forward (though it was more of a slide), lowering him down as gradually as he could. His hands had nearly gone numb by the time he was bracing himself against the wall. “Nori?”

“I’m just about there,” he called back up. “No latch on the outside of the window, though. Hang on.”

The rope shifted, and Thorin grunted as he strained to hold it up. His arms were definitely going to be sore the next day.

A gunshot sounded, followed immediately by the  _ crack _ of broken glass. The rope shifted a few more times as more glass shattered below.

“Alright,” Nori said. “You can let go, now.”

Thorin released his grip with a grunt of relief and peered over the windowsill. All he could see was the jagged hole in the window below, and the crystalline shards of glass on the ground below.

He stepped back and flexed his hands to get some feeling back into them. The walkers at the door were still clamoring to get in, incensed by the sound of the gunshot. He waited with his knife in hand, watching the doorknob carefully.

Nori could handle himself with the walkers. Thorin had given him the flashlight before he’d climbed down, since he obviously needed it more. But the man who had loosed the herd on them was still out there, lurking somewhere in the hospital. He was the real threat, the variable that wouldn’t allow him to relax until the hospital was well out of sight.

Once, he would have refused to kill a downed, weaponless man. He would have never fired at someone fleeing from him.

At some point since the world had ended, he’d crossed a line trying to protect the others. But thinking back on everything they’d lost, it didn’t matter any more. The line, whatever it was, if it even existed anymore, didn’t matter as long as his family was safe.

A loud clanging sounded from the other end of the hall. As it continued, the walkers gradually began to turn towards the source of the noise and lumber away. Thorin picked up the ceiling panel from the floor and held it against what was left of the window, hoping it would encourage the walkers to pursue the noise instead.

Gradually, their growls died down, and Thorin lowered the panel. Only five were left scratching at the door, and he dispatched two of them with his knife. He opened the door and made quick work of the other three, and was sprinting down the hall before they’d even hit the ground.

The rest of the herd was staggering towards the doors from which they’d first been let out. Thorin veered towards the stairwell door. Nori was crouched down and waiting for him on the other side.

“I seriously hope those bedpans were clean,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

They sprinted downstairs and back to the front door. Thorin felt his pocket to make sure the pills were still safely stowed there, though he could hear them rattle with each step he took.

The sky was dark as they made their way across the parking lot. Thorin made a silent prayer that they wouldn’t be too late as they raced for the woods.

* * *

 

His lungs were burning by the time they reached the camp. Exhaustion weighed on his limbs, and he almost didn’t react soon enough as the barrel of a gun flashed in the shadows ahead.

Nori reached over and yanked him behind a tree. “It’s just us,” he called. “Put the damn gun down.”

They stepped out from behind the tree in time to see Dwalin lowering his rifle. “Scared the shit out of me, running towards us like that.”

“Sorry.” He moved closer and clapped him on the shoulder. “Anything happen while we were gone?”

“Nah.” It was still early in the morning, but the commotion had woken up a few members of the group.

“Uncle Thorin!” Kíli wriggled out from beneath Víli’s arm and ran to meet him. “Did you get the medicine for Bilbo?” He peered into the bag slug over Nori’s shoulder before Thorin could answer. “Hey, are those M&Ms?”

Thorin slipped the package out of the bag and handed it to him. “Share with your brother.” Bilbo and Brana needed food the most, but Fíli and Kíli were still young—they needed to keep their strength up too.

Nori glanced down at the bag’s contents. “Not a bad haul, all things considered. We should be able to divide—” He broke off as Ori hurried across the clearing and wrapped his arms around his chest. Blinking rapidly, Nori hesitated for a moment, then returned the embrace.

As Kíli went to go rouse his brother, Dwalin was already helping Óin to his feet, and Thorin remembered the reason he was out of breath in the first place. He slipped the pill bottles from his pocket and moved towards him. “Is this what you need?”

Óin took a handful of the bottles and checked the labels, then grunted in approval. “This is more than enough.”

Thorin scanned the clearing and eventually found Bilbo, still asleep beneath his layer of coats. He took a moment to watch his chest rise and fall evenly, though there was still a disturbing pallor to his skin. “How is he?” 

“No better than when you left, that’s for sure.” Óin took a moment to retrieve one of the empty bottles they’d filled with melted snow and walked over to Bilbo. Thorin followed, feeling strangely nervous.

It took a moment to wake Bilbo. When he returned to consciousness, his brow immediately furrowed in pain. He blinked rapidly, taking in the shadows still shrouding their campsite. “S-Something wrong?”

“Thorin just got back with your meds. Can you sit up?”

“Oh.” Bilbo turned his head slightly, his glassy eyes finally landing on Thorin. His lips curved into a small smile. “You made it back.”

“Yeah.” Thorin knelt down and put an arm behind his shoulders, careful of his injury, and helped him sit up. His skin was feverish beneath his shirt, and left a patch of heat on Thorin’s forearm.

Óin poured out a handful of pills from two different bottles and handed them to Bilbo along with the water. “Antibiotics and painkillers. You should be back on your feet in a couple days.”

Bilbo dutifully swallowed the pills, though his movements were weak and sluggish. “Best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

Óin snorted a laugh at that, and even Thorin found himself grinning. “We’d better get some food in you, too. I’ll be back.” He stood up and left. A few moments of silence ticked by.

“I was worried about you,” Bilbo said softly.

He was leaning rather heavily against Thorin, probably not having the strength to sit up by himself, and Thorin shifted slightly so he would be more comfortable. Bilbo’s head was resting against his chest now, and he wondered if he could feel the pounding of his heart. “I was worried about you, too.”

“You saved my life again. Twice, actually. Just now, and back at the warehouse.”

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

Bilbo let out a short breath that might have been a laugh. “Remind me to buy you a drink sometime.” He reached out with his good arm and grasped the black jacket spread over his legs. “You can have this back, by the way.”

“Keep it. You need to stay warm.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” A hint of familiar exasperation entered his voice. “I can feel you shivering.”

A slight smile grew on his face. “That’s not me. You’re the one who’s shivering.”

“Well, whatever. We can keep each other warm.”

Just the suggestion made heat flare up his neck and pool in his stomach. Before he could respond, Óin returned with a package of trail mix and a candy bar.

“Never thought I’d say this, but I really wish we had some canned food right now.” He knelt down and handed the packages to Bilbo. “But these’ll have to do for now.”

“R-Right. If you could help me over to that tree…”

They shifted him so that he was propped up against the trunk and rearranged the coats around him. Óin went to go check on Brana, but Thorin hovered there for a moment, unsure.

“Thank you, Thorin.” Bilbo smiled at him, but there was an awkwardness in the expression, and his eyes quickly drifted towards the ground.

“Of course.” He must have been slightly delirious from his fever. That was it. That was the only reason he’d said that. “Let me know if you need anything else.” And he stepped away, heat still burning on his neck.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite literally wrote myself into a corner by trapping Thorin and Nori in the hospital without having planned how they would get out, so their solution is kind of...silly. But then again, it's kind of in character because Nori is lowkey ridiculous and he would definitely come up with something like that.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is the chapter where Brana gives birth. I don't think I was graphic at all with it, but this is just a warning in case someone doesn't want to read about it.

**Chapter 22**

 

“We need to stay together.”

Thorin knew his words would only reach half of the group, the half that was currently close enough to hear him. They were straggling along the highway at an infinitely slower pace than when it had just been him and Nori. Brana was near the back, being half-carried by Víli and Glóin. They were much too far away for his comfort, and he couldn’t help but think that even a small herd of walkers approaching from the side would be able to cut their group in half, split them up and weaken them.

The people in front paused when he did and waited for the others to catch up. They were all barely standing, exhausted and starving as they were. Bilbo, at least, had mostly recovered from his infection, though he was still weak and slightly unsteady on his feet. Óin hovered nearby, ready to help him if he needed it.

Once they’d all caught up, Thorin signalled for them to begin moving again. Their best hope was to reach the town where they’d found the hospital, find what food they could, and take shelter until they were recovered. If they didn’t make it that far—or if there was no food left—he didn’t know what they would do then. He tried not to think about it.

Next to him, Fíli stumbled as his sneaker caught on a loose section of the pavement. He managed to right himself before he could fall, but Thorin reached out anyway to steady him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Fíli shoved his hands into his pockets. “Fine.”

Thorin lowered his gaze, guilt and worry crawling through his gut. Every time he looked at Fíli, at the bruise on his face and his clouded gaze, he could feel the burn of his own failure. He should have been there, should have protected him when he needed it the most. And now, after the fallout of the warehouse, he still couldn’t be there for him. He didn’t know how.

“Fíli,” he tried again. He put a hand on his shoulder and, when he didn’t pull away, said, “We’ll get there. We’ll find another safe place.”

“Okay,” Fíli said, sounding wholeheartedly unconvinced.

Thorin drew back. He didn’t know what else to say.

Dís passed by and shot him a half-grateful, half-sympathetic smile. At the very least, Fíli had his parents to support him.

He fell back further, glancing around to make sure everyone was able to keep up. Glóin, Brana, and Víli had fallen to the back again, and the latter was walking unsteadily, sweat clinging to his forehead despite the cold. Glóin looked about the same, but Thorin knew better than to ask her to let go of her wife.

“Take a break,” he said, walking next to Víli. “I’ll take over.”

He grunted and shifted so Thorin could take Brana’s arm. “Thanks.”

Brana was sweating as well, her breathing shallow as she walked. According to Óin, the baby was due any day now. Thorin’s worries about having an infant with them had abated once they’d set up in the warehouse, but in the past few days they’d come back full force.

“Okay.” Brana stopped walking. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t go any further.”

“That’s fine. That’s okay.” Glóin wrapped her arms around her and fixed Thorin with a pleading glance. “We can take another rest.”

Thorin and Glóin helped her to the side of the road. At this rate, they would never reach the next town, but they had no other option.

Brana sat against a tree with a grunt, pain furrowing her brow. The rest of the group had stopped as well and began to gather around. “I mean...I’m not going to be able to make it. Not until…” She glanced down at her swollen belly.

Thorin frowned. “We need to get to shelter. We can’t do this here.” He glanced at the tree-filled landscape around them. They’d killed a couple of walkers a half-mile back, and there were almost certainly more out there.

“Believe me,” Brana shot him a sardonic smile, followed by a wince. “If I could, I would wait.”

“There should be a rest stop not too far ahead,” Nori said, jerking his chin towards a curve in the road.

They’d checked it briefly on their way to the hospital, but the place had been completely cleared out. Half the building was charred from some mid-apocalyptic fire. But it was better than the middle of the woods.

“Alright.” Bofur stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. “We could probably get a stretcher together, if a few people are willing to volunteer their coats.”

They worked quickly, breaking off a couple branches at the appropriate length and tying a few coats around. It took half an hour after that to carry Brana to the rest stop, which was nestled in the trees on a side road off the main highway.

“How far is the hospital from here?” Óin asked once they’d checked the place for walkers.

Thorin glanced at Nori, who said, “An hour, maybe more.”

“We should start gathering supplies.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until…” Thorin looked at Brana, who was sitting on a bench, breathing heavily. “After?”

“Giving birth can take hours,” Óin said. “If this baby is coming today, or god forbid something goes wrong, we’re going to need a hell of a lot more than we have right now.”

“Fine.” It didn’t sit well with him, splitting up, but they were out of time, food, options—if there was a better way out of this, he couldn’t see it.

Brana, Bilbo, Fíli, Kíli, Dís, Glóin, and Óin stayed behind, but the rest of the group lingered outside for a while, reluctant to leave. They were on the precipice of  _ something _ here, with the baby coming and the growing danger of their situation.

“Come on,” Thorin said. “I want to be back before sunset.”

All they could do for now was move forward.

* * *

 

“What are you looking for, exactly?”

Óin grunted and opened another cabinet. “Anything useful, really.”

Bilbo made a face as Óin picked up a spatula and considered it. “What, are you going to take the baby out like a pizza?”

He swatted at him with the flat end, then tossed it aside. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

“I’m feeling alright for now.” He’d been a little miffed when Thorin had told him to stay behind, but the walk here had taken a lot out of him. His shoulder ached too, and the cold wasn’t helping.

“Well, go be judgemental somewhere else if you’re not going to help. Doctor’s orders.”

“Alright, fine.” Bilbo held up his hands in surrender and walked back into the main area of the rest stop. It was relatively small, just a dining area, a fast food place, and a bakery. Most of the right wall and part of the ceiling was blackened from some long-put out fire, and a chilly wind was whistling through a hole near the top.

Fíli and Kíli had found some small, cheap toys in the fast food place and were playing on the floor, Dís close by as usual. Bilbo smiled, glad to see Fíli’s mood lifted for once. Brana and Glóin were sitting in a couple of lounge chairs, and the latter was glaring at the entry doors like they’d personally insulted her.

After a minute, she stood up. “Hey, D, you wanna come help me put something against the doors?”

“Sure.” Dís straightened, and they went to move one of the tables.

Bilbo trailed after them. “Do you need any help?”

“Nah, you’re still injured,” Dís said, shooting him a slight smile. “Just take a break for now.”

He shrugged (as best he could with his injury) and went to go sit next to Brana. Her eyes were screwed shut, and after a moment she relaxed and let out a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Just contractions.”

“Those are, uh, normal, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, though it came off as more of a grimace. “I knew this part was going to be painful, but…” She sighed and wiped some sweat from her forehead. “And I know it’s too late to back out now, I just wish this wasn’t happening.”

Bilbo frowned. “What do you mean?”

A tear fell down her cheek as she glanced around the rest stop, at the empty chairs and charred tiles. “I-It’s not right. I don’t want my child to grow up in  _ this _ . It’s not fair.”

He clasped his hands together tightly. The way things were looking now, Brana’s child would never go to school, would never watch cartoons on a Saturday morning or bike through the neighborhood to visit a friend. It would be growing up, really, in an entirely separate world.

“I-I haven’t…” Brana put a hand on her stomach, right above the healing bullet wound. Tears were flowing freely down her face now. “I haven’t felt it move since…”

“Oh.” A chill fluttered down his spine, followed by another as a thought occurred to him. If the baby died and turned, would it try to—

He cut the thought off immediately. It was too horrible to consider.

“Look.” Bilbo reached for her hand. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine. We’ll be right here. If—”

Brana cried out suddenly, grabbing onto the arm of the chair for support. Glóin was at her side in an instant.

“Is it the baby?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, breathing hard. “I think it’s time.”

Dís rushed over and took her arm. “Let’s get you on the floor.”

Glóin shouted for her brother just as Fíli and Kíli arrived, their toys abandoned.

“Is she okay?” Kíli looked at Brana with wide eyes as Dís and Glóin lowered her to the floor.

“She’ll be fine,” Dís said, then shot a prompting glance at Bilbo.

“Right.” He beckoned for the boys to follow him to the other end of the room.

“Is Auntie Brana okay?” Kíli tugged at his sleeve. “What’s happening?”

“She’s gonna have the baby now,” Fíli said, looking much calmer than his brother.

“But why is she freaking out like that?” Kíli turned to Bilbo when Fíli only shrugged.

“Uh…” He directed them to sit down at one of the tables as he tried to think of an answer. Now that the world had ended, Kíli was never going to have any of those awkward sex-ed classes in school. “Well, giving birth is...rather painful. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. But it’ll be worth it in the end.”

Kíli brightened at that. “So we’re gonna get a new cousin today?”

“Yes.” Bilbo jumped a little as Brana cried out again.  _ Hopefully _ .

“That’s what mom sounded like when she was having you,” Fíli said, leaning his elbows on the table.

“So you were there?” Bilbo smiled, picturing a younger Fíli holding his baby brother for the first time. “That must have been very exciting.”

“It was kinda boring.” Fíli shrugged. “They made me wait outside, and they were only playing the news on the TV.”

Bilbo’s smile turned into a grimace. “Well, this could take quite a while. Maybe in the meantime we could—”

The three of them started as a heavy  _ thump  _ sounded. A walker had pressed itself against the doors, growling and smearing filth against the glass.

They watched it for a tense moment, but the doors held.

“Bilbo,” Glóin called from where she was kneeling next to Brana. “You got that?”

“Right.” He stood up, one hand resting on his knife. He still didn’t have a gun—only Glóin, Óin, and Brana still had their arms.

Hopefully it would just be the one. They were in a pretty isolated area, far enough from the nearest town that there wouldn’t be too many walkers around. One they could handle.

A half hour later, a second one appeared at the door.

Bilbo stepped forward. Next to him, Fíli and Kíli were sitting in tense silence, having stopped talking after they saw first walker. Dís, Glóin, and Óin were still gathered around Brana, her occasional cries and groans piercing the otherwise silent air of the rest stop.

“Stay here.” With slow, cautious footsteps, Bilbo made his way over to the door. The walkers were little more than a nuisance at this point, and when the rest of the group returned, they would be able to dispatch them with ease.

Surely, there was nothing to worry about.

He hated not being able to  _ do _ anything, though. The walkers were no threat for now, nervous as they were making everyone, and opening the doors to kill them would only risk one of them making it inside, or him getting bit. He couldn’t help Brana, and Fíli and Kíli were in no danger at the moment.

Bilbo began pacing, his steps only growing quicker as a third walker arrived, and then a fourth.

The sound of cracking glass was almost a relief from the monotony, but quickly after came the fear as he looked up and saw that two more walkers had arrived. The vertical crack in one of the doors grew wider, and Bilbo rushed forward to brace his hands against the table. Belatedly, he realized they should have gotten something stronger to barricade the door.

He flinched as a shard of glass as big as his head toppled from the door and onto the table. More pieces followed as the walkers broke through the door on the left. The first one fell across the table and grabbed for him.

Bilbo swore and drove his knife into the top of its skull. “Help!”

It took all of his strength to push back against the table as the crowd pressed against it. The walker standing behind the one he had killed reached for him, its fingers only inches away from his neck.

Dís appeared next to him, adding her weight against the table and jabbing her knife into the closest walker’s head.

The second door burst open, and three more walkers tried to force their way through. Despite their best efforts, Bilbo felt his feet begin to slide along the tile as the walkers piled against the table.

“Hey, we need help over here!” Dís shouted. She swore as a walker snatched her wrist and tried to pull her closer.

Bilbo reached over and stabbed the walker’s forearm, but the blow did nothing. Gritting her teeth, Dís tried to pull her arm back, but its grip was too strong.

“Mom!”

He spared a quick glance back to see Fíli running towards them, with Kíli not far behind. The terror in their eyes was heartbreaking.

A gunshot rang across the room, and Bilbo winced as cool liquid splattered across the side of his face. The walker holding Dís dropped onto the table, and she pulled her arm back with a gasp.

Glóin was walking towards them, and took aim at another walker. Bilbo turned to the door to see that three more had taken the place of the ones they’d killed.

The one reaching for him jerked to the side as Glóin shot it, and tumbled back onto the concrete outside. She raised her gun to fire at another one, but nothing happened.

“You’ve got to be  _ fucking _ kidding me.” She checked the magazine, then slipped it back into her holster. “Alright.” She ran to join Bilbo and Dís. “New plan. On the count of three, we lift this thing up from the bottom.”

Dís looked at the boys, who were still hovering nearby. “Stay back, you two. We’ve got this.” The two of them obediently took a step back, though Fíli was frowning deeply.

“One, two,  _ three _ !”

They lifted the table so the flat end was pressed against the entrance, forcing the walkers back. Bilbo braced his shoulder against the table, grimacing at the amount of dried gum that was stuck to the bottom. The walkers snarled and pushed back, and it was all the three of them could do to keep the door blocked.

Despite their efforts, they were losing ground. Bilbo couldn’t see anything on the other side of the table, but the snarls were almost deafening. The table was being held up almost entirely by the opposing forces on either side, but if it fell, the walkers would be on top of them in an instant.

There were spots of blood dripping off the table from the walkers they’d already killed, and Bilbo cursed as his foot slipped through one and nearly sent him toppling to the floor. Dís held a bracing hand on his arm until he’d regained his balance, and all three of them cried out as the table shifted another inch in their direction.

“Óin!” Glóin barked, then cursed under her breath. “We need you!”

He looked up from where he was still kneeling beside Brana, hesitated, then pushed himself up and rushed to help them.

The four of them together managed to push back against the walkers. How long that would last, Bilbo didn’t know—they would eventually get tired, but the walkers wouldn’t. Fíli and Kíli had rushed over to Brana, though there wasn’t much they could do for her.

Where was the rest of their group?

The din of the walkers outside was so loud, Bilbo didn’t realize they’d found another way in until a light appeared at the other end of the room. Part of the wall, weakened by the fire, crumbled easily as a walker pushed its way through. It stumbled over the blackened remains of brick and plaster, then made its way towards them.

“Shit— _ shit _ .” Bilbo nudged Dís’s arm to get her attention, and her eyes widened as she followed his gaze.

“Óin!” She turned to the other end of the makeshift barrier. “Shoot them!”

He reached for the gun in his pocket, but a walker reached around the table and grabbed his arm.

“No!” Glóin reached across her brother, trying to pry him free.

Bilbo turned back to the walker, which was nearly upon them. Another two had followed it through the gap in the wall. He swallowed hard and gripped his knife. At least it would be them first, not the boys, not Brana—

A bullet cracked across the room and struck it in the shoulder, throwing it off balance. He looked across the table, but Óin was still struggling to free himself from the walker.

Another shot tore through the walker’s head before it could regain its balance. Bilbo scanned the room, breathing hard, and his eyes widened as they landed on Fíli.

He was standing between Kíli and Brana and the walkers, his brow furrowed in concentration as he aimed Brana’s gun at the next walker.

This time, Fíli’s aim was a little better, and the second walker keeled over to join the first. Fíli took a step forward. He was shaking, but he steadied himself and shot down the third.

Óin had finally gotten his arm free, but there was no need for his gun now. Dís was staring at her son with wide eyes. Bilbo saw fear and panic there, but also a little bit of pride.

“Okay,” Glóin said, panting. “Let’s just finish these motherfuckers off. Fíli, you’re gonna cover us, yeah?”

Fíli blinked and straightened. “Y-Yeah.”

“On my mark, we’re dropping the table.” Glóin glanced around for confirmation, and received a trio of nods.

Bilbo tightened his grip on his knife and took a deep breath.

“Now!”

The four of them dropped the table and leapt back as the walkers shoved their way through the door. The ones in front tripped over the table as it fell, and Bilbo took the opportunity to jump forward and stab it in the head. The one behind it lunged for him, but Fíli shot it in the head.

The walkers stumbled around the table, but with two guns and three knives between them, they were able to take them all out in a few minutes.

Glóin jammed her knife up through the jaw of the last walker, then kicked it down to join the others. They stood amidst rotting bodies, breathing hard.

Silence.

Bilbo put his hands on his knees, dizzy from leftover adrenaline. Though he hadn’t thought about it in a long time, he wished for his armchair, and a hot cup of tea to go with it, and just a minute to get a damn  _ break _ from all of this.

Kíli’s voice broke the silence, sounding fearful. “Mom?”

And time seemed to lurch into motion again. Glóin ran across the room, nearly slipping on walker blood. Bilbo followed the others as they gathered around Brana.

The first thing he realized, with a rush of relief, was that she was not dead. She was breathing heavily, her shirt soaked through with sweat, her eyes slightly glazed as she looked around.

Kíli was squatting next to her, but he was looking at the floor beneath her legs with an expression of mingled disgust, curiosity, and concern.

Glóin fell to her knees, hastily wiping her hands on her jeans, then bent to pick something up off the floor. It was flesh-colored, damp with various fluids, and it wasn’t moving.

She cradled it to her chest. “Hey, come on.” She began rubbing its chest gently, in small circles. “Come on,  _ please _ .”

Dís let out a ragged breath and grabbed Bilbo’s hand. The walker blood was sticky between their palms, but he squeezed her hand back anyway.

Brana moved her lips soundlessly for a moment, her head rocking slightly as though she didn’t have the energy to raise it. “Tell me…”

And then a high, clear noise broke through the silence. It was a cry—the baby in Glóin’s arm was crying.

Bilbo let out a shaky laugh. He would have never expected that noise to sound so wonderful.

“Come on, let’s get you up.” Óin hurried to cover Brana up, then pushed a chair over so she could lean against it.

“Here.” Fíli slipped off his sweater and offered it to Glóin, who used the fabric to wrap up the baby.

Once Brana was situated, Glóin knelt next to her and handed her the bundle. “It’s a boy, babe. You did it.”

Brana’s eyes began to fill with tears again as she smiled down at her baby. “He’s so beautiful.”

Dís sniffled, and Bilbo looked over to see her wipe away her own happy tears, smearing blood across her face. He glanced back at the carnage at the front door, but it seemed they were safe for now.

The baby’s cries gradually quieted down, and he relaxed into Brana’s arms with a small sigh. Glóin sat down and put her arms around them both.

Kíli crouched on Brana’s other side, peering curiously at the baby. “Do you know his name yet?”

Brana glanced at Glóin, who smiled back at her and nodded. “Gimli. His name is Gimli.”

* * *

 

The winter breeze carried with it the smell of rot, and Thorin knew instantly that something was wrong. The scent only grew stronger as the group reached the road leading to the rest stop. He threw down his pack, the cans inside rattling, and sprinted up the hill towards the building.

The glass doors were completely shattered, and a mess of corpses was piled just beyond. Thorin stepped across the threshold, his gun at the ready, and froze.

The others were gathered in one of the seating areas, talking quietly and smiling at the bundle cradled in Brana’s arms. At the sound of Thorin’s footsteps, they all turned to look at him.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Bilbo said, though there was more humor than anything in his tone.

A quick headcount informed him that everyone was still alive—they’d actually gained a person, counting the newborn. Thorin’s stomach dropped at the thought, igniting the anxiety still running through his veins. Brana had gone into labor  _ and _ they’d been attacked by a herd while he and the others had been gone.

“No one’s on watch,” he said. “I could have come in and shot one of you just now, and none of you would have been prepared.”

Most of the group averted their eyes. The smile slid from Bilbo’s face. Before anyone could say anything else, the others came through the door.

“The fuck happened here?” Dwalin looked around at the mess, nudging aside the table near the entrance.

Víli rushed through and made a beeline for Dís. “Is everyone okay? What happened?”

Dís threw her arms around his neck. “We’re fine. Better than fine, actually.”

Kíli joined the two of them, bouncing on his toes. “Dad! Fíli shot a gun. And also we have a baby now.”

A collective murmur of excitement rose from the others, and they crowded around Brana to get a better look.

Thorin suppressed a sigh and headed back to the front door. Part of the burned wall had been torn away—probably by walkers, if the trail of bodies leading away from the opening was any indication.

They would either need to find something to block the hole, or have another person stand guard. This was far from the ideal place to spend the night, especially now that the baby was here, but at least they’d brought a good haul from their run.

It made him nervous, though, that so many walkers had gathered in a relatively unpopulated area like this one. He knew from a few nights of babysitting his nephews when they were younger that babies could cry loudly, and for a long time. When they ended up on the road again, any noise that attracted that many walkers could prove fatal.

A nudge on his arm broke him from his thoughts. Dís had moved up beside him, and she held out her hand.

“I’ll take over, here. Go say hi to the new kid.”

Reluctantly, he handed over his gun and walked back inside. Bifur and his cousins were sorting through the supplies they’d brought. Kíli was describing rather animatedly to his father what had happened while he’d been gone, and kept gesturing to the bodies over by the gap in the wall. The others were gathered around Brana, Glóin, and their baby.

“Gimli, eh?” Balin lowered himself into one of the chairs nearby. “That’s a good name.”

Brana looked up at Fíli, who was hovering nearby. “Do you want to hold him?”

“Uh.” He shifted his weight, and Thorin realized he was still holding a gun in one hand. “Yeah, sure.” He put the gun in Glóin’s outstretched hand and knelt down.

“Make sure to support his head, okay?”

“Okay.” Fíli reached out and gathered the baby in his arms. The baby gurgled and stretched a stubby arm out towards his face, and Fíli smiled.

It was like a shaft of warm sunlight. Thorin couldn’t remember the last time Fíli had genuinely smiled since they’d lost the warehouse.

Something loosened in his chest, and he stepped forward to join his family.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realize how often I write inner monologues of Thorin stressing about the group's safety. I should really make an abridged version of this fic called "The New World but it's only Thorin's anxiety attacks."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

 

Thorin reached up to rub at his brow as another high-pitched wail cut through the room.

It was nighttime, but he doubted anyone was actually sleeping. Gimli had been crying on and off for the past few days, but it was frequent enough to feel non-stop. They’d already killed five walkers attracted by the noise in the past day, and that alone was enough to keep Thorin up at night.

He’d laid out the majority of their weapons on one of the tables, and the familiar act of cleaning the guns was enough to calm his nerves somewhat. Besides the ten guns they’d managed to keep from the warehouse, they’d found another five on their run, including an assault rifle taken from the body of a soldier.

Across the room, Bofur stood up and said something to Brana, though Gimli was crying too loudly for him to hear the exchange. He watched Bofur bend down to pick up Gimli and begin rocking him slightly. Miraculously, he calmed down after a few minutes.

“I didn’t know you were good with kids,” Thorin said as Bofur moved closer to him.

“Well, I was a guidance counselor for a while. Don’t know if that helps, but it’s kind of the same thing.” He shrugged.

Though Gimli had quieted down, he wasn’t asleep yet. One stubby arm had managed to worm its way out from under the blanket, and was reaching for Bofur’s chin.

“What’s that, little guy?” Bofur looked down, then grinned as Gimli tried to grab his mustache. “You like that, huh? You want a mustache of your own someday? Get a big, fluffy beard like Uncle Balin?”

Thorin smiled slightly. There had never been any doubt that Bofur would make a good father, if he ever decided to have children of his own.

“What’s all this?” Bofur stepped closer and looked around at the weapons spread out on the table.

“Just taking inventory.” They’d taken stock of their food the first day, and indulged themselves after days of eating little to nothing. It had been a strange potluck of cold beans, canned peaches, and a handful of chocolate bars, but everyone had smiled like they’d been served a five-course meal. 

What they had left would last a few days if they rationed it properly. “We could make another run soon,” Thorin said. “But as soon as Brana’s recovered, I want to be on the road again.”

“Just hopping from town to town, huh?” Bofur resumed rocking Gimli, and glanced at Thorin out of the corner of his eye. “Or are we still looking for a place to settle?”

“We need to find somewhere fortified, easily defensible.”

“Didn’t Nori mention something about a prison a while back?”

“That could work, yeah.” Thorin glanced at the assault rifle. “Or a military base.”

“I’ll bet there are probably a dozen rich people somewhere out there, buried in some underground bunker with hot tubs and champagne.” Bofur snorted, making his mustache flutter. “They probably have no idea how bad it’s gotten out here.”

“Hm.” He continued to stare at the rifle. Finding it had tickled something at the back of his mind, an idea he’d considered and dismissed a handful of times since the world had ended.

There was one military base he was familiar with, but it was still miles away from where they were now. He also had no idea if they’d be able to get inside, if it was overrun with walkers, or if it had even survived the chaos of the apocalypse.

“Still wish we could have gone for the coast,” Bofur continued. “If we’d found a boat, we could be relaxing on some tropical island right now. Eating fresh pineapple instead of canned.” He glanced down at Gimli. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Keep dreaming, Bofur.” Thorin turned his gaze away from the table. Whatever they decided to do, it was a long ways off. “I’m going to get some rest. Try and keep the kid quiet, alright?”

* * *

Another brutal gust swept over the road, and everyone shivered.

They had no shelter from the elements here—the forest had given way to empty fields, and it had been that way for miles. The sun was setting now, and the temperature had dropped even further. But Thorin had consulted the map in the last town, and this was the most direct route to the next one.

“Fuck,” Dís said, blowing into her cupped hands. “We need to light a fire tonight. I feel like I’m frozen stiff.”

Thorin glanced around. It seemed everyone else was faring about the same. Gimli was wrapped in so many blankets and scarves he looked twice his size. Fortunately, he was sleeping peacefully in Glóin’s arms, having been fed about an hour ago.

“Maybe we’ll find a barn or something along the way,” Óin said. “That would help with the wind, at least.”

“If we light a fire, we’ll have to keep a close watch,” Thorin said, looking around. They were lucky it hadn’t snowed heavily, but the flat land was covered in a thin layer of frost. “The fire will be visible for miles.”

An hour later, they came to the next sign of civilization. Óin chuckled and pointed. “See? What’d I tell you?”

They’d come across another wooded area. The road branched off through the trees, and right next to the fork was a sign that read,  _ Carrock Farms _ .

“Maybe I should pick up fortune telling again.”

“You found a farm in the middle of rural Rhovanion,” Glóin said, keeping her voice low so as to not wake Gimli. “Let’s get you a crystal ball to go with that.”

Thorin motioned for them to head towards the farm, scanning the trees for walkers. They followed the road for a short distance, and a gated fence came into view. There were a series of strange round shapes set at intervals on the fence, but Thorin couldn’t make out what they were.

“Jesus,” Dís hissed. “Are those…?”

He realized the shapes were moving, and a second later, a familiar stench hit his nose.

They were walker heads, set on wooden rods tied to the fenceposts. They snarled and moved their jaws uselessly as the group approached.

“That’s messed up,” Bofur commented as they stopped at the gate.

Unease prickled at the back of Thorin’s neck. Someone had put the heads there deliberately, and it probably wasn’t to welcome newcomers.

His instincts told him to move on, but there was no telling if they’d be able to find another place to take shelter before sundown. He didn’t know if the group could handle another night in the cold, and they were running low on supplies besides.

“We got company,” Nori said, and everyone stiffened.

Beyond the gate, about fifty yards away, stood a large farmhouse, and a tall man was striding towards them. He had a shotgun in one hand, but made no move to raise it.

“Circle up,” Thorin said, and the group reacted immediately, pushing Brana and the kids to the center and scanning the woods on either side of the road. He waited, one hand on his gun, as the man drew closer. He knew it would probably be best to retreat, but a part of him wanted to see what the man had to say, to try and gain some insight on the place.

As the man approached the fence, Thorin realized he was even larger than he’d seemed at a distance, probably close to seven feet tall. His face was weathered, his beard unkempt and streaked with gray.

A pair of flint-dark eyes surveyed their group. “What are you all doing here?”

“We were just passing through.” Thorin’s eyes flickered to one of the walker heads. “We didn’t know anyone lived here.”

“Someone does,” the man replied.

The two words were telling enough. The man had come alone to ward off a group of seventeen—he most likely lived by himself.

“This farm isn’t open to strangers,” the man continued, and lifted his rifle an inch. Bifur let out a low growl. “I suggest you move on.”

Thorin’s pulse began to pound in his ears. This man had supplies—he had to—and a house where they could take shelter. He couldn’t let his family freeze to death. 

He couldn’t let this man threaten them with a rifle. 

His hand closed around his gun.

A sudden grip wrapped around his wrist. Thorin looked down and saw Bilbo’s hand, holding on almost tightly enough to be painful. His gaze was still focused on the stranger, but he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

He turned back to the tall man and waited, but he only watched them with dark, tired eyes. After a long moment, Thorin released his gun, and Bilbo let go.

“We don’t want any trouble. We’ll be on our way.”

The man nodded stiffly, and continued to watch them as they turned to go. Once they’d reached the main road, Thorin saw him walk back towards the house.

“Fucking psycho.” Dís shoved her hands in her pockets, then glanced up at Thorin. “I guess we’re camping out tonight?”

“We’ll find a spot in the woods.” Thorin motioned for them to start moving again. “We can light a  _ small _ fire.”

They came across a relatively dry clearing out of sight of the road and settled down for the night. Thorin went to collect kindling for their fire, and looked up as Bilbo appeared next to him.

“I saw what you were going to do, back there,” he said lowly.

Thorin stood and met his gaze. “We need food, shelter. That man had it. And he was threatening us.”

“He was protecting his home, doing what any person would.” The look Bilbo was giving him, a mixture of concern and disappointment, made shame burn against the back of his neck. “We can’t just kill him because of that.”

“You seemed fine with it when we took the warehouse.”

Bilbo flushed. “Well, for starters, that man had a gun to my head. Not that I entirely agree with what you did, but there was no point in bringing it up after the fact.” He took a deep breath. “But we can’t go killing innocent people for supplies. If we start doing that, we’re no better than Azog and his group.”

Thorin flinched at that. It wasn’t the same. He had no intention of murdering others to satisfy his own greed. All he wanted was to keep his family safe.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ve made it this far.” Bilbo moved closer and gripped his arms. “You’re better than that. I know you are. Just promise me you’ll remember that.”

A lump grew in his throat. He never wanted Bilbo to look at him like that again. “Alright. I hear you.”

“Good.” Bilbo relaxed and stepped back. He searched his face for a moment longer, then walked past him to help gather firewood.

Gimli was crying again.

Brana had tried changing him (and then again an hour later) to no effect, and he was refusing to eat as well. At least half of the group had taken turns holding him in an attempt to soothe him, but nothing seemed to be working.

This left them in the very early hours of the morning, slumped against various trees and caught in the gray area between sleep and wakefulness.

Ori, who was on watch, turned and shot an anxious glance at Gimli. “There’s a walker heading towards us.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Glóin grumbled, standing up from her spot next to Brana. She drew her knife and headed into the woods.

Thorin massaged his forehead and glared at the muddy twigs next to his boots. This wasn’t the first sleepless night they’d had out here, and it was making everyone both restless and careless. The last thing they needed was for something to go wrong because they were all too sleep-deprived to notice it.

Apparently one of those moments was coming now. Glóin rushed into the clearing, clutching her knife. “There’s a herd coming.”

The camp awake in an instant. Everyone stood, gathering supplies and checking their weapons. Kíli looked at his mother with wide eyes. Nori drew his knife and stepped closer to Ori.

“What do we do?” Bofur asked, and Thorin realized everyone had turned to look at him.

They couldn’t run. Gimli’s crying was a beacon that would guide the walkers after them, and in their exhausted state, they’d be overrun before they could find a safe place. Briefly, his thoughts turned to the farm, but there were too many risks involved with putting his family between a herd of walkers and a man with a shotgun who knew they were nearby.

“We’ll need to make a stand,” Thorin said. He took a couple steps forward, looking around the clearing. “This seems like as good a place as any.”

The group began to rouse from their temporary shock, drawing knives and loading guns.

“We’ll circle up, take out as many of those bastards as we can.” And if they were lucky, some of them would live to see the morning.

Except for Gimli’s crying, it was mostly silent as everyone shuffled into place. Brana, Gimli, Fíli, and Kíli were ushered into the middle with their supplies, while the others formed a semicircle around them.

Now, he could see a series of shuffling shapes moving through the trees. Thorin could count at least a dozen, but it was hard to tell how many there really were in the dimness of the forest.

“Don’t fire until you know you have a clear shot.” He checked the safety on his handgun. “And don’t let them get close.”

The crunch of dead twigs and scuffling dirt became audible beneath the wailing echoing through the forest. A walker stumbled out from behind a tree close by, and Thorin shot it in the head. Soon, the air was peppered with gunshots, and more walkers fell by the second.

But there were always two more to take the place of each one that fell. They swarmed towards them, and soon the space in between the trees was filled with rotting bodies.

“How many of these sons of bitches are there?” Dwalin growled.

“Just keep them at a distance.” Thorin retreated briefly to grab more ammo, then continued firing. If they didn’t run out of bullets, maybe they would be able to take out the herd without getting their hands dirty.

“They’re coming from behind!”

Thorin swore and glanced over his shoulder. There were three walkers headed towards the open end of their semicircle.

Fíli leapt to his feet and fired at the closest one. He stood between Kíli and Brana and took out a second. “I got it!”

Pride swelling in his chest, Thorin turned back to the rest of the herd. Next to him, Nori slipped away to grab more ammo, and returned a second later.

“We’re out. Whatever’s left is in the guns.”

“Shit.” Sure enough, the sound of gunfire began to fade. The walkers were piled on the damp ground before them, filling the air with a rotting stench. And more were coming.

“Spread out,” Thorin said, gesturing for the group to follow his orders. They would need room to move once they engaged the walkers with their knives. “But don’t let them break the line.”

They waited, breathing hard, as the walkers advanced. When they were nearly upon them, when the smell of their rot became nearly unbearable and Thorin could see the cloudy gray of their eyes, he stepped forward and jammed his knife into the eye of the nearest walker. With a roar, Dwalin brought his axe down, nearly cleaving another walker’s skull in two.

The others joined in with a cry, and the air was filled with the slick sound of slicing flesh and the wet sound of blood and bodies hitting the dirt.

Nori stumbled back as a walker fell onto him. Thorin finished slashing another’s face and grabbed its shoulders, heaving it off of him. A pair of cold hands gripped his shoulder, but Dwalin’s axe slammed into its skull a moment later.

The walkers pressed against the line. Their snarls were loud enough now to nearly overpower Gimli’s cries. They were packed so tightly between the trees they could hardly move anything besides their grasping limbs.

“Move back!” Thorin shouted. “Keep them separated!”

His arms ached. He didn’t know how long it had been since the walkers had attacked,, only that they were relentless, and the group left a rotting layer of bodies behind with each step they ceded. His knife and most of his arm were slick with viscous blood. Nori and Dwalin were close by, and as far as he could tell, their line hadn’t broken, but the others, covered in dirt and grime and wreathed in exhaustion, were nearly indistinguishable from the walkers.

Light glinted from Nori’s knife as he yanked it from a walker’s skull.  _ Sunlight _ . Thorin glanced up and saw the barest hint of white dawn glimmering through the trees. It was so close—the new day was theirs for the taking.

“Come on!” he cried, and they surged forward against the herd. Thorin impaled a walker, pulled out his knife, and in the same motion cut another down. Each new surge of adrenaline was like a bolt of lightning, flashing along with his blade as he and his family crashed like a tide against the army of the dead.

He nearly stumbled as he killed another walker, turned to find his next target, and saw nothing. Nearby, Dwalin turned in a full circle, his axe poised like a baseball bat.

And the woods fell silent.

“Is...Is that it?” Bofur wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing blood along his skin.

The walkers covered the ground like a carpet of fallen leaves. Thorin scanned the forest once, then again, but only the living were moving.

Panting, Dís wrapped one arm around Víli’s neck, and the two of them staggered towards their sons.

Fíli was standing next to Kíli and Brana, his gun still clasped in both hands. He was scanning the trees too, and after a moment, he looked up at his parents. “Did we do it?”

Brana looked down at the bundle in her arms. Gimli was fast asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling as though he’d been listening to a lullaby instead of a battle against the undead. She looked up at the others with a slight grimace. “Fucking brilliant timing, huh?”

Thorin did a quick headcount, and his shoulders slumped with relief once everyone was accounted for. “Anyone hurt?” He received an exhausted chorus of “no’s” in response.

Nori slung one arm around his brother’s shoulder. “You know, I’m thinking we get some kind of spiky metal ball, stick it on the end of your stump, and then the walkers will  _ really _ have to watch out, eh?”

Ori smiled and flicked a piece of viscera off Nori’s arm. “Only if I can change it out for other things. I want a spoon attachment, too.”

And the trees echoed with giddy, exhausted laughter.

* * *

 

Heavy footsteps jolted Bilbo out of his doze. Half of the group was already standing, watching the newcomer approach.

Blinking sleep from his eyes, Bilbo stood up and peered around the tree he’d been leaning against. It was the tall farmer from before. The shotgun was tucked under his arm, but he kept it pointed at the ground as he drew closer.

“That’s far enough.” Thorin stepped forward, one hand on his gun. It was empty, but the stranger didn’t know that. “What do you want?”

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The man had a gravelly voice, more of a growl than anything. “I want to make you an offer.”

Half the group stiffened at that. The last time they’d been forced to make a deal with someone, it hadn’t ended well. Nori drew his knife and looked around, eyes examining each shadowed branch and thick trunk. Dís stepped closer to her sons.

“Yesterday you wanted nothing to do with us.” Thorin remained still, but Bilbo could see his eyes darting about, searching for unseen threats. “What changed?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any living in these parts,” the man said. He looked tired and...a bit sad, too. He looked like them, Bilbo realized. “I live alone on my farm. But I need more people to work it, keep it safe. It wouldn’t be much, but you would have food and shelter.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. Now, there was an option. A farm would provide them with enough food for—for the rest of their lives, barring any sort of disaster. It seemed almost too good to be true.

The others seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Thorin narrowed his eyes and asked, “Why? How do you know you can trust us?” And at the end of the question was an unspoken reversal.

“You could have killed me, taken my land when we first met. You didn’t.” He looked around at the walker bodies littering the ground. “This herd would have torn down my farm. You killed them all.”

“We did you a favor, then,” Thorin said coldly.

He continued, unflinchingly. “I know what this world has unleashed. People take what they want, what they think they deserve.” The stranger lifted his chin. He had a sort of quiet dignity about him that made Bilbo instantly respect him. “I would offer this to you freely. Whatever this world has become, I will not let children go hungry when I can help them.”

The clearing fell silent. With a quick glance around, Bilbo could see some of the group were considering the man’s words, while others had glares firmly fixed on their faces.

“You have food, you said?” Bofur said. “I haven’t seen any crops in the area, seeing as it’s, uh, winter.”

It was a valid point, bluntly put in Bofur’s usual manner. Everyone turned to look at the stranger again.

“I have plenty in my stores, more than one person could eat.” A slight smile appeared on his face. “Everything is powered by solar energy. I have a working fridge, and—”

“Running water?” Brana asked.

The man nodded.

The atmosphere lightened a bit. Bilbo sighed. What he wouldn’t give to take a shower, even a cold one.

Thorin glanced back at the group, and after a moment, Bilbo realized he was looking at  _ him _ . He held his gaze for a moment, then gave a slight nod. Whatever this was, they needed to at least see for themselves.

Thorin turned back to the man. “We’re taking your gun. You’ll lead the way back.”

“Alright.” He held out his shotgun by the barrel. As Thorin stepped forward to take it, Bilbo realized just how tall he was, standing nearly a foot above than Thorin, who was by no means of average height himself.

He turned and led them with long strides through the forest and back towards the road. It was a while before the ground turned from twisted, rotting limbs to damp soil and flattened leaves. Bilbo hadn’t realized how many walkers they’d killed in the chaos of the previous night. His arms ached from swinging his knife, and he was covered up to his elbows in viscera. He thought longingly about a nice, long shower.

They passed by the sign and walked down the road towards the entrance. The man unlatched the gate and pushed it open, ignoring the growling figures on either side.

“Uh.” Bofur pointed at the fence as they began filing through. “What’s the deal with the walker heads?”

The man waited until they’d all gone through, then pushed the gate closed. “The heads seem to keep the biters away. It might be the smell, I’m not sure. Tends to keep the living away as well.”

The farmhouse was a decent size, with two stories and a wraparound porch. To the left, a small fence around a garden was visible, and Bilbo made a mental note to ask their host what sort of things he liked to grow. To the right was a cluster of fruit trees, though he didn’t know which kind, as well as a strange cluster of multicolored boxes stacked on top of one another. Beyond the house were a number of larger buildings that he supposed made up the rest of the farm.

As they neared the porch, the screen door burst open and a large, gray, fluffy dog shot across the yard, barking loudly. Fíli flinched and immediately stepped closer to Dís. Bilbo tensed up as well, and raised one hand unconsciously to rub at his shoulder.

The man stepped forward before the dog could reach them and let out a sharp growl. The dog skidded to a stop and sat down, looking up at him attentively.

“This is Grim,” he said, reaching down to scratch the dog behind its ears. “He won’t bite.”

Nonetheless, Fíli gave the dog a wide berth as they began walking towards the house. Bilbo couldn’t shake his nerves either, though Grim only wagged his tail and trotted at the man’s side as he stepped inside.

The inside was cozily furnished, paneled in light brown wood that gave it a rather rustic feel. To the right was a living room, which had a couple of sofas and a television with a thick layer of dust. And on the far wall…

“Is that a bear?” Kíli asked loudly, ducking out from under Víli’s arm and pointing at the massive pelt nailed to the wall.

The man grunted an affirmation. “Wandered onto the property one day, went after my horses. Now it keeps the house a little warmer when it gets drafty.”

A few people exchanged glances at that. But seeing how bloodstained and grimy they were themselves, Bilbo didn’t think it was really their place to judge.

“You’ll stay here while we check the rest of the house,” Thorin said to the man.

He turned around and regarded him for a long moment, and Bilbo wondered briefly if he was going to argue. But he only said, “I’ll be on the porch,” and made for the front door.

Thorin wasted no time in sending small groups of people to various parts of the house, and a few out to the other buildings. Nearly everyone had their hands on or near their knives as they left.

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, then followed the man as he stepped back outside. “Excuse me?”

Dwalin caught the screen door before it could swing shut and gave him a questioning glance. Bilbo nodded slightly in response.  _ I’ll be fine _ . Dwalin let the door close, but made no move to walk away.

Bilbo turned back to the man, who was waiting for him to speak. “Well, first of all, I wanted to thank you for inviting us here. That can’t have been easy.” 

The man only nodded, but it was more of an acknowledgement than an agreement.

He cleared his throat. “And I also realized none of us even know your name. And you don’t know ours, I suppose.”

“My name is Beorn.” Some of the lines on his face relaxed, making him look a bit younger. “I suppose you’ll have to introduce me to the rest of your group.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter was inspired by 6x09. I hope I did it at least some justice, I had a pretty hard time with the fight scene. I'm interested as to what you all think of this chapter, since there were quite a few important character decisions in this one.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

 

“I think this has gone bad. It’s got mold all over it, see?”

“Maybe it’s supposed to be like that. A little mold never hurt anyone, right Kíli?”

Bilbo stepped into the pantry to find Nori and Balin nosing through the pantry. Kíli was kneeling on the floor, going through one of the cabinets. Bilbo put his hands on his hips and looked at Nori. “What are you all doing?”

“Well, Thorin said to check the house, right?” Nori opened the fridge and peered inside. “Let me know if you find any booze, by the way.”

Bilbo crossed his arms and shook his head. Thorin and a few others had gone out with Beorn to help with some work that needed to be done on the farm. A few others had gone upstairs to check out the bedrooms. Bilbo was currently waiting for Óin to be done with the shower, though he’d scrubbed the worst of the blood from his hands in one of the sinks. He hadn’t ever thought he’d be so amazed at the sight of running water.

Balin held out a package of half-unwrapped cheese. “Do you know if this is still good?”

Bilbo took a sniff and made a face. “No, that should probably be thrown out.” He glanced past Balin’s shoulder at the rest of the pantry, and couldn’t help but stare. It was more food than he’d seen in a very long time. The fridge was stacked with pears and squash and wrapped meats and bottles of milk. There were jars of peanut butter, a rack of spices, and dozens more bottles and bags in the pantry.

His stomach gave an involuntary grumble.

“Bilbo look!” Kíli held up a bag of trail mix. “Can I have some?”

“Well,” he smiled slightly, “Beorn did say we could help ourselves to the food. I was thinking we could cook a nice meal today, as a thank you for all this. It could be a sort of housewarming celebration.”

Balin nodded. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Nori looked unconvinced, but shrugged. “Maybe he’ll tell us where the booze is.”

“Alright.” Bilbo rubbed his hands together. “Let’s see what we can make. I’m sure we can throw a few things together before the others get back.”

“Are we talking about cooking in here?” Brana stuck her head through the doorway. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she looked cleaner and more relaxed, though dark circles still hung beneath her eyes.

“Do you want to help? We could use an extra pair of hands here.”

“More than that. I’m not helping unless you put me on microwave duty.” Nori unnecessarily vaulted over one of the kitchen chairs and headed for the doorway. “I’m gonna go check out the basement.”

“Holy shit, that is a lot of food.” Brana walked into the room. “Do they have any pasta?”

“I think I saw some earlier.” Balin began digging through the pantry again.

Bilbo went to see what cooking utensils were at their disposal. There were a number of pots and pans in the cabinet by the oven. He took out a frying pan, examining the shiny black surface.

In a way, it almost didn’t feel real. They’d been on the road for so long, cold and bleeding and afraid, that it felt more like a dream than anything to be invited into a house with running water and a full pantry. It was like he’d only woken up from a long nightmare, to find himself back in his apartment.

He was a little afraid that if he embraced this fantasy, it would hurt all the more when it was torn away.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “I think we’re going to need a pot if we’re making pasta,” Balin said. He smiled at Bilbo, though there was an undercurrent of concern in his expression.

“Oh. Right.” Bilbo put the pan back and grabbed the appropriate container. For now, all they could do was make the best of what they had. “So, what else are we making?”

The kitchen became warmer and cheerier as they worked. Víli walked in and asked if he could help, and was promptly put on dishwasher duty. Kíli watched them work from his perch on the kitchen counter, munching away on his trail mix (until Dís came in and confiscated it before he could ruin his appetite). Soon, they had a steaming bowl of pasta with tomato sauce and garlic, a meat pie in the oven, and a pot of squash soup simmering on the stove.

They were nearly done when the others returned from outside. Dwalin walked into the kitchen first, smelling of sweat beneath his heavy coat.

“Is that soup?” He reached over to poke a grimy finger into the pot, but Bilbo smacked his hand away.

“For that, you get to set the table. But wash your hands first.”

Dwalin grumbled something under his breath, but made for the sink anyway.

As Bilbo busied himself looking for potholders, Thorin appeared at his shoulder. “I see you’ve been busy.”

Bilbo turned to look at him. He also smelled of sweat, and there was a bit of straw stuck in his beard. “So have you, apparently.” He reached up to pluck it away, then looked away as heat spread on his cheeks. He elbowed Thorin, lightly. “Go get washed up. The food will be ready soon.”

The kitchen became more crowded as people took turns using the sink and bustled about, carrying food and utensils to the dining room. Bilbo looked up and saw Beorn standing in the doorway, watching the chaos. He didn’t look angry or annoyed. He looked more lost than anything.

“We sort of took over your kitchen,” Bilbo said with a slightly apologetic smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Beorn took a while to respond. “No.” He glanced back and forth between Óin and Dwalin arguing over the proper knife to cut the pie and Bifur helping Ori balance a stack of plates on one hand. “It’s alright.”

He turned and disappeared down the hallway. Bilbo frowned, wondering if they’d managed to offend him somehow.

“Oi!” Bofur leaned into the kitchen. “Get your ass in here. We’re gonna start eating.”

Well, Bilbo certainly couldn’t ignore what his stomach was telling him to do. He carefully took a plate from Ori and headed into the dining room. There weren’t enough seats for all of them, so a few people were trickling into the living room to sit down and eat.

They all paused as Beorn appeared in the doorway again. He held up two bottles. “I think the wine glasses are in one of the top cabinets.”

The mood brightened considerably after that, and soon everyone was seated with a plate of food and a glass of wine. Bofur pulled Bilbo into one of the seats at the dining table, along with Beorn, Dwalin, Nori, Balin, Óin, and Thorin.

“I think we should toast.” Nori held up his wineglass, which had already been reduced to half its original amount. “To this guy, for letting us stay in his house.”

Bilbo smiled and raised his glass as well. “To trust going both ways.”

It was all  _ incredibly _ strange, to be sitting at a dining table and clinking glasses with the smell of hot food filling the room. But he couldn’t deny, as Bofur grinned and squeezed his good shoulder, that he hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.

The next few minutes were filled with silence as everyone dug into their food. There wasn’t enough for second helpings, since they did have to make it all last for the rest of the winter, but Bilbo was more than satisfied as he sat back and listened to the amiable chatter permeating the room.

Beorn had finished his food as well, and was sitting rather stiffly as he listened to them talk. It occurred to Bilbo that this was probably rather awkward for him. Even though this was his home,  he was still an outsider considering how well the rest of them knew each other.

“This is a lovely house,” Bilbo said to him. “Did you grow up here?”

He nodded. “It’s been in my family for a few generations.”

“Well, it’s in very good condition.” He looked around the dining room, trying hard not to dwell on the question he knew better than to ask. Beorn lived alone, but it clearly hadn’t always been that way. In this world, there was only one thing that could have happened to the others.

Bofur leaned around him and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I can’t believe you’ve been doing all this work by yourself. I thought I was going to keel over after a couple hours.”

Beorn nodded slowly, and Bilbo resisted the urge to step on Bofur’s foot beneath the table. “It hasn’t been easy. But there’s not much work to do in the winter compared to the other seasons.”

“So what happened to the rest of your people?” Nori asked. He was slouched almost sideways in his chair, twirling the stem of his wineglass between his fingers.

Bilbo considered throwing a fork at his head.

Beorn sat back, his gaze not focused on anything in particular. “Another group raided our farm.” His hand was clenched tightly where it rested on the table, and Bilbo noticed for the first time a semicircular scar that extended across his wrist. “They took us by surprise. I killed a few of their people, and the rest escaped.”

The dining room fell silent. Bilbo felt a cold pit sink into his stomach as he remembered Dori. He tried to imagine that loss multiplied tenfold. If he’d been the only one to escape the warehouse, he didn’t know how he would have gone on.

A low whine sounded from the floor, and Bilbo jumped as he realized Grim was sitting by Beorn’s chair, looking up at him with pleading dark eyes.

“I need to feed him,” Beorn said, sounding almost as if he was talking to himself. “Excuse me.” He stood up and walked out of the room, Grim trotting at his heels.

Dwalin glared at Nori once he’d gone. “You’re an asshole.”

Nori held his hands up in a shrug. “What, am I not allowed to ask questions? I thought it was a little suspicious that he was the only one living here.”

“It’s horrible, is what it is,” Bilbo snapped. “And you of all people should have some empathy for what he’s been through.”

He pushed his chair back and left the room. He needed that shower now, to try and wash off the dirt and sweat and whatever else the road had given him.

* * *

 

Bilbo woke with a start, blindly grasping for his knife, and paused as he realized how warm he was. After weeks of shivering against freezing soil, it was strange to wake up feeling comfortable. He hadn’t felt like this since…

He sat up and looked around, blinking slowly as his memories came back to him. They’d all ended up sleeping in Beorn’s living room together. At least half of them could have split up among the bedrooms, but it felt safer to stay together once night fell.

He sighed and swallowed against his dry throat, then remembered with a slight thrill that they didn’t need to ration their water anymore. Carefully stepping over Víli and Dís, he tip-toed out of the living room and towards the kitchen.

He wasn’t alone. Bilbo squinted at the towering shape near the cabinets, and his eyes widened. Kíli was balanced on top of a stepping stool stacked on one of the chairs, reaching up for something on top of the cabinets. The whole thing wobbled as he stretched his arm out.

“For goodness’ sake, Kíli!” Bilbo darted forward and lifted him down before he could fall. “What on earth were you thinking?”

Kíli frowned defensively and crossed his arms. “I was just getting some stuff.”

Bilbo noticed the dinosaur-patterned backpack leaning against the chair, and his heart dropped. “What is that?”

“I was just packing.” He reached down and grasped one of the straps. “So we don’t run out of supplies when we get kicked out.”

He sighed and knelt down. “Kíli, what makes you think we’re going to get kicked out?”

Kíli shrugged. “That’s what always happens,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he were explaining why grass was green. “Wherever we go, we have to leave.”

Bilbo took in a breath, but there was nothing he could say. Kíli was right. He gestured to the backpack. “Will having this make you feel safe?”

“Yeah.” Kíli shrugged again. “I guess.”

“Keep it close, then.” He squeezed his shoulder. “And go get some rest. If you need to get something off one of the high shelves, ask one of us, alright?”

“Okay.” Kíli nodded, though he didn’t look exactly reassured. “‘Night, Bilbo.” He grabbed his backpack and dragged it out of the kitchen.

Bilbo stood up and ran a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, that he believed more readily than Kíli that this could be a home for them. Maybe he was being naive, but he wanted badly to believe that they would never have to go hungry again, that they could actually  _ live _ here.

He made his way back to the living room, and paused as he caught a glimpse of auburn hair through one of the front windows. He opened the front door, wincing at the blast of icy air that swept into the foyer, and quickly stepped outside and pulled it shut behind him.

Nori was slumped against the porch railing, a bottle of whiskey in one hand. When he caught sight of Bilbo, he raised it a few inches. “Found it in the laundry room. What kind of psycho keeps their booze in the laundry room?”

“Well, you did check there.” Bilbo stepped forward and held out a hand. After a moment, Nori passed the bottle to him, the amber liquid sloshing just below the neck. He screwed it shut and placed it on the porch railing.

Spreading his hands, Nori gave him a  _ What the hell? _ look, but made no move to take the bottle back.

“Look.” Bilbo leaned against the railing and crossed his arms. “I just want to apologize for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have brought up...I shouldn’t have said anything about what happened before.”

“Eh.” Nori shrugged. “Whatever. I was being kind of an ass, too.”

“Well…” Bilbo took a seat next to him. Nori was brushing him off in his usual way, but he wasn’t going to let it slide this time. “I know you’re not okay right now. Not that any of us really are. But if you want to talk about any of it, I promise not to snap at you.”

Nori raised his eyebrows and blinked slowly at him. Bilbo was beginning to wonder if he would remember this conversation at all the next morning, given the state of the bottle. 

After a few minutes of silence, he shook his head and stood up. “I’m taking this in with me.” He grabbed the bottle, the glass leaving a sharp, cold imprint against his skin. “And I suggest you come in too, before you freeze to death.”

Bilbo was almost at the door when Nori said, “It’s just fucked up, you know? He’s never going to get to see this.” He lowered his head and massaged his brow. “It’s not right.”

“Yeah.” A painful shard wedged itself in his heart. “I think he’d be happy, though. That we made it.” He walked across the porch and took Nori by the arm. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

* * *

 

They should have put someone on watch last night.

Thorin sighed and ran a hand over his face. His fingers left a chill on his skin, already cold after a few minutes of standing outside. They’d all let their guard down the previous night, subdued by hot food and a chance to sit comfortably for a while. Thorin had only planned on resting in one of the armchairs for a few minutes, but everything—the escape from the warehouse, searching the hospital, dealing with Gimli, and all the sleepless nights in between—it had all caught up to him, and he’d been dead to the world for the next ten hours.

Nothing had attacked while he’d been asleep. Almost everyone was still sleeping in the living room, and Beorn had gone back to the barn about half an hour ago. Yet he couldn’t shake the uneasiness humming quietly beneath his skin as he looked out over the frost-covered grass in front of the house.

The door creaked open, and Bilbo stepped outside, two steaming mugs in either hand. He held one out to Thorin.

“Thanks.” He accepted the drink, the hot ceramic already bringing some feeling back into his fingers. The curling scent of chamomile filled the air.

“Couldn’t find any coffee, unfortunately.” Bilbo held up his free hand to hide a yawn. The curls on one side of his head were flattened where he’d been sleeping on them, and Thorin had to resist the urge to brush them back into place. “There are worse ways to wake up, though.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and turned back to the lawn. “Did you sleep well?”

“I guess so.” Bilbo took a sip of his tea. “I found Kíli going through the kitchen in the middle of the night. Said he was packing up supplies for when we had to leave again.”

Thorin nodded. “He’s learning.”

Bilbo let out an indignant huff. “He shouldn’t have to. He should focus on being a kid, not getting ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“Well, being a kid isn’t going to protect him from everything that’s out there.” Thorin turned to him with a frown. “You know that. We can’t stay here, anyway.”

“Thorin.” Bilbo met his gaze with a pleading look. “We could. We could  _ live _ here, find some peace while it lasts. Why not make the most of it?”

“Because this place isn’t safe,” Thorin growled, even as his throat tightened. He wanted nothing more than to give that to Bilbo, to all of them—a life of peace, where they didn’t have to worry about walkers or strangers or anything else. But they couldn’t find that here. “Those fences aren’t going to keep out the rest of the world forever. If another group like Azog’s finds this place, they could be on our doorstep before we know anything’s wrong.” He shook his head. “This farm is vulnerable. There’s too many things that could go wrong.”

“We have four walls and a roof. Food and running water.” Bilbo swallowed and shrugged. “Can’t that be enough for now?”

Thorin closed his eyes. It was too soon to push the rest of the group to move on, especially in the dead of winter. They could stay for now, regain their strength, and work until they’d repaid their debt to their host. “If we’re staying for now, I’ll still have to go on a run sometime in the next few days.”

Bilbo let out a half-incredulous laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Gimli needs some more formula. We’re out of ammo, too.” Thorin met Bilbo’s eyes, though he couldn’t hold his gaze for long. He stepped past him and made for the front door. “I’ll look for some coffee while I’m out.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, domesticity. Maybe it'll last this time. Even though we still have a ways to go. But maybe they'll get a little break. Just kidding...unless?
> 
> Anyway, I think this is the longest delay I've had in updating this story. I'm going to school full time and getting underpaid for two part time jobs so I barely have time to do anything now. But these next two chapters are a sort of turning point for the story, so if there's any place for me to be slow on updates, this is it. Also, I'm kind of sick and my brain is fried so I hope this chapter was actually good haha


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

 

As he drew closer to the farm, Thorin reached for the walkie lying in the passenger seat. “This is Thorin. I’ll be there in another minute or two.”

Ori was waiting for him when he arrived, and pulled the gate open so he could drive through. The walker heads snarled from the tops of their posts. He closed the gate and hopped into the passenger seat, and they two of them drove the rest of the way to the farmhouse.

“Find anything good?” Ori asked.

“Most of the usual,” Thorin replied. He gestured to one of the bags in the backseat. “God some more film for your camera.”

“Oh,  _ nice _ .” Ori leaned back to start rooting through the bags.

Thorin pulled up to the garage, and the two of them brought the supplies into the house. Ori was moving much more deftly with just one hand now, balancing the bags on his left arm like he’d been doing it all his life.

The house was mostly empty when they entered—Thorin guessed most of the group was working out back. He deposited the supplies on the table, which consisted mostly of food, toiletries, and baby supplies.

“You’re back early,” Balin said, walking into the kitchen.

“Got lucky with one of the stores,” Thorin said, setting aside a couple boxes of ammo. “I found enough to head back early.”

He’d been keeping an eye out for a safer place for the group, but so far he’d only encountered two-story houses and storefronts. More than once, he’d found his thoughts straying to the east, but kept the thought in the back of his mind.

“Next time you should take someone with you,” Balin said, and Thorin fought the urge to roll his eyes. He’d made the same suggestion for the last time he’d gone on a run, as well as the time before that. “I’m sure Dwalin is itching to get out of the house.”

“I need Dwalin here,” Thorin said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. “He knows this.” It was one of the only things that gave him the peace of mind to leave the group at the farm for days on end. If something were to go wrong, he knew he could trust Dwalin, as well as Glóin and Bifur, to keep the others safe. “Only one of us needs to go.”

“In that case,” came another voice, and Thorin turned to see Bilbo standing in the doorway, “we could all take turns going out.”

Thorin tried not to scowl as he turned back to the supplies. Bilbo had been even more vocal than Balin, and it was harder to resist him. Bilbo had a persuasive way of talking—or maybe it was just the little furrow in his brow that could guilt trip him harder than anything else.

“I know where I have and haven’t been. It wouldn’t make sense for someone else to go.” And more than that, he didn’t want anyone else risking themselves out there.

He could practically hear Bilbo and Balin exchange a glance behind his back, and after a moment, Bilbo turned and left the room. Ori finished putting away the last of the cans, then followed him out. Balin continued to hover by the fridge.

Thorin let out a slow breath and leaned his palms against the kitchen table. “Anything else you’d like to criticize?”

“We could try putting out a suggestions box,” Balin said. Thorin snorted, some of the irritation leaving his shoulders. “We know how much you’ve done for us, Thorin.” Balin went to stand next to him at the table. “But you don’t have to put it all on yourself.”

He shook his head, but decided not to argue the point further. “This is all temporary. Soon the weather will be warmer.” He glanced out the window. The last of the frost had melted weeks ago, though chilly winds still swept across the fields. “And we’ll be able to move on.”

“We might want to stay a little longer,” Balin said. “There’s going to be a lot to do in the spring. Seeds to plant, and such.” He cleared his throat. “Still not sure what all of that entails.”

Thorin grunted at that. There would be work to do on the farm the whole year round. There would never truly be a convenient time to leave, but they needed to pick one anyway.

“At the very least, we could wait until Gimli is a little older. It’ll be easier to travel once he stops crying so often.”

That was a good point, and enough to make him pause.

“Fine. We’ll wait, then, revisit this in another few months.”

Balin clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to go. “Maybe we  _ should _ think about getting a suggestions box.”

Thorin shook his head with a small smile, though his gaze never left the window.

* * *

Bilbo couldn’t help but sigh in relief as he passed out of the sweltering heat and into the welcoming shade of the trees. It was summer now, and the heat was brutal. Even so, there was plenty of work to be done on the farm, and he was still sweating even though he’d finished weeding the garden over an hour ago.

There was nothing like a glass of lemonade (from a powder mix, but it did the job) and a good book in the shade on a day like this. There was a creek flowing through the woods at the edge of the property, and it was one of his favorite spots to relax. Though as he drew closer, he realized he wasn’t the only one with that idea.

Familiar laughter and a series of splashes reached his ears. Bilbo reached the creek and smiled. Fíli and Kíli were standing in the water, both well on their way to becoming soaking wet as they splashed at each other. 

Dís was leaning against a tree nearby, stitching up a tear in one of her shirts. She nodded to the thermos in his hand as he approached. “Whatcha got there? Booze?”

Bilbo glanced at the sky. “It’s not even noon.” He shook the container in his hand. “This is just lemonade.”

“Oh, thank you, I was so thirsty.”

He rolled his eyes, but handed her the thermos anyway. “I was just coming out here to read, but…” He glanced over at the boys, who were both shouting as Kíli attempted to jump onto his brother’s back.

Dís shrugged and handed the container back to him. “I usually just end up tuning them out.” She glanced at the book in his hand. “Is that another one Thorin got for you?”

Bilbo hummed in the affirmative. Not fearing for his survival anymore meant he had much more time to read, and he’d finished everything in Beorn’s personal collection in a couple of months. Thorin kept an eye out for books whenever he went out, which Bilbo was grateful for...though it didn’t excuse the fact that he left the farm far more times than he thought was necessary.

A booming series of barks sounded from the edge of the forest, and a moment later, Grim came bounding into the clearing. Bilbo tensed up, then took a breath and told himself to calm down. He’d grown a little more comfortable around the dog in the past few months, but he couldn’t help his reaction whenever Grim got excited.

Fíli had it even worse than he did. He froze, staring with wide eyes at Grim as he splashed into the creek, tail wagging wildly, and began sniffing around the boys.

“It’s okay, Fee.” Dís stood up and made her way into the creek. “He’s not gonna bite you.” She put a hand on Fíli’s shoulder while he stared at the dog, stiff as a board.

“Yeah, he’s nice.” Kíli had both hands buried in the fur behind Grim’s ears, though he kept glancing at his brother. “You can pet him.” He giggled when Grim licked his face, and ducked away.

“Go ahead.” Dís rubbed Fíli’s back. “You’re okay.”

Bilbo’s heart broke at the fear on his face, where moments ago he’d been laughing along with Kíli. Though the memory of the warehouse and Azog’s group grew more distant with each day, it was moments like this that sent the weight of it all crashing down again. He tried to push down his rising anger. What had happened to them was no fault of Grim’s, who by all means was a rather well-behaved dog.

Stiffly, Fíli raised one hand. He flinched when Grim licked his fingers, but with Dís’s soft encouragement, he reached over and gave him a soft pat on the head. Grim panted at them for a moment, looking almost like he was smiling, then trotted out of the creek. He shook himself off and walked away.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Dís looked down at her son and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Fíli, look!” Kíli was crouched a little ways downstream. “I found a frog!”

Fíli brightened a little at that and went to join his brother. Dís watched them both for a moment, then stepped out of the creek and walked back towards the tree.

“Ugh, now my shoes are all wet.” She sat down and stripped off her sneakers.

Bilbo smiled. “Well, that was progress, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze softened a little. “At least Kíli’s not having any problems with the dog. He feeds him under the table at, like, every meal.”

He laughed. “You know, he’s handled it pretty well, not being the baby of the family anymore.”

“Ah, the privileges that come with being the youngest child.” Dís leaned back and stretched. “Never got tired of that.”

“Oh, is that why you think you can go around taking people’s lemonade?”

“You gave it to me, remember?” She grinned. “That’s all part of the youngest sibling charm.”

“Well, this is all new to me. I was an only child, so I never really had to share with anyone.”

“Did that ever get lonely? Being the only kid in the house?”

Bilbo glanced up at the sky, letting himself sink back into memories of his childhood. It was strange to think of himself back then, content and oblivious to how the world would be now. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “it could get lonely at times. Though I usually had my nose in a book, so it didn’t bother me too much. And I had cousins visit occasionally. But I think it would have been nice to have an older brother or sister to look out for me.”

Dís nodded, her expression filling with nostalgia as well as a bit of melancholy. “Thorin did his best, but after...after he was discharged, he got kind of distant. Threw himself into his work. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but once he gets going, it’s kind of hard to get him to stop.”

He snorted, and tried not to let too much resentment enter his voice. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“But, I mean, he wasn’t always such a workaholic.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well…” Dís opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to say something more, then shrugged. “Maybe one day he’ll figure out how to relax again.”

Bilbo sighed and closed his eyes. “One day.”

* * *

“Would you look at that. Nothing like it that I’ve ever seen.”

Glóin turned to her brother. “What are you talking about?”

Óin gestured at the trees just beyond the fence. The leaves had turned various shades of yellow, orange, and red. “This. Nature herself is a work of art.” He waved a small leather-bound notebook in one hand. “I was trying to write some poetry about it, but  _ they _ were putting a dampener on everything.”

Thorin’s hand went to rest on his gun. He wasn’t looking at the trees, but rather at the shifting crowd just outside the fence. The walkers were pressed up against the wood beams, trapped there by their own mindless persistence. Even as they approached, the wood began to buckle.

He started forward, drawing his knife and sinking it into the crown of the nearest walker. Glóin was right beside him, driving her machete into another walker’s face. With Óin’s help, the three of them were able to dispatch the rest of the group.

Thorin glared at the walker heads attached to the fence posts, which were still snarling uselessly. “So much for keeping walkers away from the fence.” One of the rails finally snapped beneath a dead walker’s weight, and he stepped back as the rotting body tumbled onto the grass.

Glóin bent down to wipe her machete on the grass and glanced up at Óin. “You were writing poetry about fall leaves? You sure you don’t want to describe the color of the sky, or something?”

Óin cleared his throat. “I, for one, think it’s a great metaphor for how one can find beauty in a decaying world.”

Before Glóin could respond, Thorin said, “We need to be more careful checking the perimeter. We can’t let a buildup like this happen again.”

She grunted in agreement. “Well, let’s get rid of these fuckers before they stink up the whole farm.”

“I’ll go ask Bofur and Bombur about repairing the fence,” Óin said as Glóin and Thorin hopped the fence. He rubbed his back. “I don’t think I’m in any shape to be picking up dead bodies.”

“Why don’t you write some poetry about your back pain?” Glóin called after him as he walked away.

Thorin snorted and placed both hands under the first walker’s shoulders. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Glóin grabbed the walker’s legs, and they carried it a little ways into the forest. They found a relatively clear spot and threw it into the dirt.

“That fence is not going to work,” Thorin said as they headed back to collect the next one. “We get another herd like the one from last winter, and they could tear the whole thing down before we can do anything about it.”

“We could probably find some materials to reinforce it, like we did at the motel,” Glóin said. “I think Bofur and Bombur have been itching for some sort of project to do anyway.”

Thorin wondered if he needed to mention how much the reinforced fence at the motel had helped them. Besides, the fence surrounding the farm was at least a mile long—fortifying all of it would take a ridiculous amount of supplies and time.

Glóin studied his face as they bent down to pick up the next walker. “You’re still thinking about leaving, huh?”

“We’ll either leave on our own, or be forced to by something else.” He’d continued his solo supply runs, going farther and farther from the farm, but he still hadn’t found a place that he would consider suitable for the group. The best he’d found was a nearby university. The metal fence surrounding the campus was better than what they had now, but the place was too big, and there were too many points of entry. They didn’t have enough people to keep the place safe.

“Or,” Glóin said, “we could take our chances here.” When Thorin gave her a doubtful look, she continued, “Maybe this is the best we’re going to get. Maybe there is no laser-guarded abandoned steel bunker waiting out there for us.”

Thorin shook his head. “There  _ is _ a better option out there. We just haven’t found it yet.”

“Well, I don’t want to go traipsing all over the countryside looking for it.” She shrugged. “I’m not taking my son out there, not when he has a chance to grow up here. I don’t want him to go through what Fíli and Kíli had to go through.”

That was enough to give him pause. He thought back to what Bilbo had told him months before—that Kíli had a backpack stored away in case they had to leave. He was glad his nephews were learning how to keep themselves safe, but that wasn’t what he wanted for them.

“I would never ask you to take Gimli away from here, not if it wasn’t necessary.” Thorin sighed and straightened as they dumped the next walker. “But I’m going to keep looking. If he’s going to be safe, then I want it to be for  _ real _ .”

Glóin frowned and said softly, “You don’t have to, though. I mean, you’ve gotten us this far. If you decided to just settle down, none of us would blame you.”

Thorin looked away. He wouldn’t be able to settle down, wouldn’t be able to rest, until they didn’t have to worry about things like walkers at the fence.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re not in debt anymore, okay? You don’t have to keep punishing yourself for what happened to Fre—”

“ _ Glóin _ .” He nearly winced at the harshness in his tone. A familiar, painful tightness appeared in his chest. “Just drop it, alright?”

“Fine.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shake her head, but she said nothing more as they went to retrieve the next dead body.

* * *

Bilbo drifted out of his doze and blinked. He looked around and realized he was still in the armchair by the fireplace. “How long was I out?”

Bombur smiled as he bent down to add another log to the fire. “About forty five minutes. You have any nice dreams?”

“Mostly just about food,” Bilbo said, and Bombur laughed. He sighed and rubbed his face. Apparently a full belly and a warm hearth had been enough to put him right to sleep.

They’d enjoyed a veritable feast just a few hours earlier. They had lost track of the dates a long time ago, but with snowdrifts gathering around the house, the group had decided to pick a week to celebrate Hanukkah. The food had been wonderful, and Thorin had found a menorah on one of his runs, which they’d lit and placed in one of the windows in the living room. In another window was a single candle they’d lit in remembrance of Dori.

Bilbo sighed and stretched. He would have liked to fall asleep again, but now that he was awake, he felt the need to move around. Even a year after being on the road, not all of his survival instincts had left him.

He peeked into the dining room, but it seemed all of the dishes had been taken care of. They hadn’t needed to worry about leftovers.

Ori passed by and tapped him on the shoulder. He had his camera slung around his neck, and a collection of photos pinched between two fingers. “Do you know where the thumbtacks are?”

“I think there’s a box of them in the kitchen.” Bilbo motioned for Ori to follow him.

Víli and Bifur were in the kitchen, washing the dishes. Víli shook off a bowl and tossed it to Bifur, who caught it by the rim and began drying it.

“Hey!” Bilbo scowled at the two of them. “None of that, you’re going to break something!”

“I don’t know, Bifur’s got pretty good reflexes.” Víli picked up the next object in the sink, which happened to be a carving knife. He considered it for a moment, then leaned over to hand it to Bifur.

Bilbo sent another warning glance at the pair, then walked over to the kitchen drawers where they kept miscellaneous supplies. “They should be somewhere...ah, here. This work for you?” He handed the thumbtacks to Ori.

“Thanks.” Ori slipped the photos into one of his pockets and accepted the box.

“What are you planning to do with those, anyway?” Bilbo followed him back into the library, partially out of curiosity and partially from the feeling that he was going to need some help.

“I was thinking about hanging up some of the photos I’ve taken, so they’re not just sitting in my backpack.” Ori stopped by an empty space in the wall and set the thumbtacks on the back of the sofa. He took out one of the pictures from his pocket. It was a shot from earlier that evening, of their family gathered around the dining table, laughing over plates of half-eaten food. The sight made him smile. “I told Beorn about it, and he said he didn’t mind.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Bilbo put a hand on the box of thumbtacks. “So, you choose where the picture goes, and then I’ll hang it up?”

“Alright.” Ori nodded. He’d gotten very good at doing things one-handed, but he also tended not to ask for help when he needed it—he and Nori were more alike than either one would admit.

They spent the next few minutes pinning up the photos in a haphazard collage. Bilbo wasn’t sure if Ori had any sort of prior experience with photography, but most of his shots were lovely: a picture of a stray cat in an abandoned house, a stream flowing through the woods, Fíli and Kíli holding hands as they walked along the road.

“So many memories on one wall.” Bilbo stepped back and smiled once they’d finished. “I’m glad you decided to document all of this.”

“So am I.” Ori adjusted the camera strap hanging around his neck. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course.” He stifled a yawn as Ori went to go put away the thumbtacks. Maybe he would go to bed early—it was his turn in one of the bedrooms, so he might as well make the most of it. There were a limited number of beds in the house compared to the people living in it, so they all took turns between the bedrooms, the living room, and whatever available places they could find to sleep.

He found Kíli on the stairs, surrounded by scraps of paper. Little triangles were scattered about the wood and stuck to his fingers.

Bilbo put his hands on his hips. “Are you planning on cleaning all of that up?”

“Uh huh.” Kíli didn’t even look up, his gaze intensely focused on the paper in his hands. Upon further inspection Bilbo realized it was a paper chain—four crudely-cut people holding hands. The one with blonde hair drawn in yellow crayon was labeled “Fíli,” and next to it were three more labeled “Mom,” “Dad,” and “Me.”

“Are you making decorations for the holidays?”

“Yeah.” Kíli maneuvered the scissors so he could cut out the blank space between Dís and Víli’s figures. “Fíli says if I glue a bunch of these together, I can make one for everyone.”

“Well, I’d love to see it when you’re done. Just be careful with those scissors, alright?” Bilbo ruffled his hair and continued up the stairs.

He was about to head into one of the rooms, but he paused when he noticed Beorn’s door was ajar. None of them had been inside his bedroom before—though Beorn had become friendlier over the past year, he still maintained a certain distance from the rest of the group. Bilbo stepped closer and saw him fiddling with one of the ceiling lights. He was so tall he didn’t even need a ladder to reach it.

“You need any help?” he asked, and Beorn jumped slightly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He lowered his hands. “Just trying to screw this damn thing back on.”

Bilbo let out a soft laugh. “Well, it might help if you could see what you were doing.” He was only working by the dim light of a lamp in one corner of the room.

Beorn grunted in what might have been agreement. “There’s a flashlight in the bedside table, top drawer.”

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the bedroom and followed his directions. He tried not to stare too openly—not at the photographs on the dresser, not at the rumpled bedsheets, not at the wood shavings stuck in the rug.

He retrieved the flashlight and clicked it on, careful not to shine the beam in Beorn’s face.

“Hm. That is a little better.” He set to work on the light again.

Grim was curled up in a dog bed in the corner of the room. After a few minutes, he walked over to Bilbo and licked his free hand, whining for treats.

Bilbo scratched him behind the ears. “I don’t have anything for you, sorry.” Grim pushed against his hand, panting. “Where did you get the name Grim, anyway? He doesn’t really seem like the brooding type.”

“I didn’t pick the name. My son did.”

“Oh.” He winced, inwardly kicking himself, but Beorn continued.

“He got it from some book he was reading, I think. He was the one who asked for a dog, so I let him pick the name.”

Bilbo still didn’t know what to say. His gaze drifted over to one of the photographs on the dresser. It showed a group of people standing on the porch steps—Beorn, looking much younger than he did now, a couple of men about the same age, a blonde woman, and a teenage boy. It was chilling to think of these people, the lives they’d had, and the fact that their memory was nothing more than a couple of photographs and the weathered man standing next to him.

“I was...gone for a long time after I lost them,” Beorn said. “Every day, I’d go out and find a walker, put its head on a branch. I wasn’t doing it to make the place safer, I just...needed something to kill.”

Bilbo thought back to the heads on the fence with a slight shudder. There must have been at least a hundred there.

“I still don’t know how Grim stayed with me the whole time. Though I suppose he was grieving, in his own way.”

The dog had padded back to his bed and was lying with his head resting on his paws. He looked almost mournful.

Beorn finished with the light and lowered his hands, then stared at it as if he expected it to fall and break. After a while, he said, “It’s nice to have people in the house again.”

“Well, I’m glad you let us in. We all are.” Bilbo stepped back and clicked the flashlight off. “You have no idea how much of a relief it’s been.”

“But Thorin still wants to leave.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. That had definitely been a topic of discussion, but they’d all been more focused on how that would affect the group if they were back on the road. No one had bothered to think what it would do to Beorn if they left him alone again.

“Nothing’s been made final, yet. Personally, I’m hoping he’ll forget about it.” He let out an irritated sigh. With all of his absences, he was surprised Thorin had bothered to stick around at all for their holiday. It had taken some convincing to get him to stay until the weather got warmer. Eventually Dís had pulled him aside and, although no one knew what had been said, Thorin had agreed to stay the winter.

“He won’t forget. None of you will.”

Bilbo lowered his gaze. There was enough truth in that. As much as he’d fallen into the rhythm of living in a house again, and as much as he hoped it would always be this way, he couldn’t forget any of it—not Ori’s amputation, not Azog’s group, not those cold, hungry days on the road. Perhaps he was just living out a fantasy, pretending that things could go back to some semblance of normal.

“You can still stay here,” Beorn said, almost apologetically. “For however long it lasts.”

He gave a weak smile in response. “I’d be happy with another year.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of thoughts about this chapter, so I'm going to dump them here.  
> 1\. I think I’ve traumatized you guys, because last chapter everyone was convinced the farm was going to blow up or something and the group would be forced to move on. But they’ll be staying for a while, at least, and hopefully that’ll give them (and y’all) some time to breathe.  
> 2\. I was listening to "Black Hole Sun" from the Westworld soundtrack while writing this chapter, and I think it fits pretty well. Also shoutout to Ramin Djawadi for just being a musical genius, I love his shit.  
> 3\. A few people mentioned Fili's reaction to Grim from a couple chapters ago, and I'm glad that was appreciated. I had a couple dogs who used to get into really bad fights (like emergency room bad) and even though I never got terrorized or my shoulder torn up like Fili and Bilbo, that sort of aggressive energy would freak me out for a long time afterwards. So that's real, y'all. But hopefully this chapter shows that it doesn't all have to be bad when it comes to our doggo friends!  
> 4\. The paper chain part with Kili was inspired by sodasacd's amazing fanart of this fic, which you should absolutely check out on tumblr.  
> 5\. The holiday stuff makes me laugh a little because in the TWD comics, winter comes and Rick freaks out like "we can't tell the kids it's Christmas! They'll figure out Santa isn't REAL" like bro you have dead people trying to eat you, get your priorities straight.  
> 6\. Finally, I don't really like adding new POVs this late into the story, but I'm probably going to add Fíli's POV in later chapters, because there's some sequences later on that just can't be fully covered with just two.


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